ROBERT 


University  Library 
University  of  California  -  Berkeley 


COWBOY  LYRICS 


COWBOY 
LYRICS 


By 
ROBERT  V.  CARR 


W.  B.  CONKEY    COMPANY 

Publishers 
CHI  C  AGO 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
BY 

ROBERT  V.  CARR 


CONTENTS 


PA»E 

Dedication 9 

The  End  of  the  Trail 11 

RANCH  AND  RANGE 

The  Old  Cowboy's  Lament 15 

The   Irrigator 16 

The  Smell  of  the  Sage  Brush  in  the 

Mornin'   17 

Father  and  Son 19 

Waterloo  of  Poker  Bills 21 

When  Dutchy  Plays  the  Mouth  Harp  24 

The   Bronco   Buster 26 

A  Cowboy  in  the  City 27 

Roobiyat  of  Pigin-toed  Pete 28 

Doc  Pierce's  Choice 29 

An  Oracle  of  the  Plains 32 

The  Widow's  Lot 33 

The  Chuck  Wagon 35 

Branding  Pen  Gossip 36 

In  the  Gumbo 37 

Hank  Laimer's  Kid 38 

Animal  Rhymes  39 

The  Man  of  the  Ranch 41 

Tamed 42 

Springtime  on  the  Range 44 

Down  at  Haller's  Dancin' 45 

[5] 


Contents 


PAGE 

A  Moral-less  Tale 47 

Kick  of  the  Ranch  Hand 48 

A  Fragment 50 

Baldy  Joe's  Simple  Rhyme 51 

A  Coarse  Lack  of  Appreciation 53 

Cowboy's    Salvation    Song 54 

The  Boys  are  Comin*  to  Town 56 

A  Sunshine  Song 57 

The  Would-be  Cowpuncher 58 

Jim  Davis  and  the  Bicycle  Man 59 

Jed  Williams 60 

The  Nifty  Cowpuncher 62 

The  Cowboy  and  the  Stork 64 

Ranch  Lullaby   65 

A  Tribute  to  the  Doctor 66 

To  a  Cowboy  Poet 67 

Post  Mortum  Politeness 68 

Jawin'   Jane 69 

A  Cowboy  on  Religion 70 

The  Paper  Man 72 

Lem  Scobey's   Opinion 74 

Ballade  of  Miss  Susan  O'Toole 77 

Advice  from  the   Range 79 

When  it's  Gettin'  Plantin'  Time 81 

Spring    82 

Let's  Quit  Quarrelin'  fer  Awhile 83 

When  a  Man  has  Money 84 

A  Cowboy  Fatalist 85 

The    Old    Cowman 86 

Holoway 87 

A  Little  Ax  to  Grind 89 

[6] 


Contents 


PAGE 

A  Word  from  Shorty 91 

Dance,  You  Punchers,  Dance 92 

Doc  Pierce's  Way , 94 

A  Light  Joke 97 

The  Old  Cowboy's  Complaint 98 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LOVE 

That  There  Girl 103 

Speakin'  of  Her  Eyes 104 

Them  Heap  Big  Thoughts 105 

That    Scrub 106 

She  Writes  a  Note 107 

Her  Hands 108 

Confidential    109 

To  Dance  with  Her 110 

Speakin'  of  Arms Ill 

The  Tryst 112 

Jes'    A-foolin' 114 

Real    Affection 115 

A   Cowboy's   Resolution 116 

Bashfulness    117 

Trail  Song 118 

An'  a  Two-step's  What  They  Play..  119 

Partiality     120 

A  Romance  of  the  Range 121 

An  Ode  to  the  Slow  Horse 123 

True  Love   125 

Time's  Heavy  Hand 127 

Plato  Disputed 129 

When  She  Goes  to  Get  the  Mail 130 

The  Princess  of  Desire 132 

[7] 


Contents 


PAGE 

The  Man  You  Couldn't  Get 140 

Sary    142 

A  Lothario  of  the  Range 143 

Boy,  Will  You  Care? 145 

WHERE  THE  CHINOOK  BLOWS 

Green  Prairies 151 

The  Ranch  House 152 

The  Spring  Roundup 153 

The  Camp's  Asleep 154 

Twilight  on  the  Range 155 

The  Crocus    156 

Tiger  Lilies   157 

Sage  Brush    158 

The  Bad  Lands 159 

The  Rattlesnake  160 

The  Buttes  161 

Prairie  Wolves   162 

The  Winds  of  the  West. 163 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  YESTERDAY 

Onjinjintka     169 

The  Gun  Fight 172 

Love  and  Death 174 

The  Western  Trail   175 

To  a  Buffalo  Skull 176 

At  the  Grave  of  a  Border  Cavalier. . .  177 

The  Doom  of  the  Weak 178 

The  Night  Stampede 179 

The  Circle   180 

In  Passing  181 

Dear  Little  Fire 182 

[8] 


DEDICATION 


He  spoke  of  his  home  country  like  a  man 
talkin'  'bout  an  old  friend — Lem  Scobey. 

To  you,  old  pard,  a  hearty  "How."  Thou 
knowest  I  have  not  forgotten.  Thou  know- 
est  that  some  day  I  will  be  with  you,  and, 
as  of  yore,  we  will  ride  through  the  rain  of 
a  summer's  day,  or,  in  the  keen  October, 
feel  the  wind  of  the  western  mountains  in 
our  faces.  Perhaps,  it  will  be  a  strange 
range,  and  we  will  have  to  cross  the  Great 
Divide  before  we  reach  the  "Home  Ranch," 
but  believe  me,  boy,  I'll  be  there — I'll  be 
there.  And,  when  we  meet,  you  will  say 
unto  me,  quaintly  and  with  the  light  of  a 
great  happiness  in  your  face:  "You  miser- 
able son-of-a-gun,  I'm  tickled  to  death  to 
see  you."  After  which  you  will  strike  me 
rudely  on  the  shoulder  and  call  me  many 
strange  names.  Then  your  bed  will  be  my 
bed,  your  chuck  my  chuck  and  your  tobacco 
my  tobacco.  R.  V.  C. 

Chicago,  1908. 


[9] 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

'Tween  the  old  time  and  the  new, 
I  have  sung  heart-songs  of  you — 
You,  lean  stranger  to  all  fear, 
Careless  border  cavalier. 

Now,  old  pard,  that  you  are  gone, 
And  the  gray  and  cheerless  dawn 
Of  a  day  called  Progress  comes, 
And  the  throaty  engine  hums 
Down  the  trail  where  you  and  I 
Made  our  camps  and  watched  the  sky 
Drop  its  crimson  sunset  bars 
To  a  bunch  of  mav'rick  stars — 
Then,  oh,  then,  I  cry  aloud 
Curses  on  the  white-faced  crowd, 
On  the  heights  of  stone  and  wood, 
Standing  where  our  line  camps  stood; 
On  the  jangle  of  the  street, 
And  each  pale  worn  face  I  meet. 

On  the  coyote  ways  of  men — 
Sharp  of  fang  beyond  our  ken — 
Snapping  oyer  a  brother's  bones 
For  a  pile  of  yellow  stones. 
Did  we  seek  for  gold  or  fame  ? 
No,  we  played  a  careless  game; 


And  on  plunging  ponies  we 
Shouted  back  in  mocking  glee, 
When  in  town  the  black  gun  spoke 
Thro1  a  smiling  wreath  of  smoke. 

Thus  I  dream  and  long  and  fret, 
For  my  heart  will  not  forget — 
Not  forget  those  old,  red  days 
Of  the  trail — its  careless  ways] 
Not  forget — you  know  the  sign — 
Answer  me,  oh,  pard  of  mine. 


[12] 


RANCH  AND  RANGE 


RANCH  AND  RANGE 


THE  OLD  COWBOY'S  LAMENT 

The  range's  filled  up  with  farmers  an'  there's 

fences  ev'ry where, 

A  painted  house  'most  ev'ry  quarter  mile; 
They's  raisin'  blooded  cattle  an'  plantin'  sort- 
ed seed, 
An'  puttin'  on  a  painful  lot  o'  style. 

There  hain't  no  grass  to  speak  of  an'  the  water 

holes  are  gone, 

The  wire  of  the  farmer  holds  them  tight; 
There's  little  use  to  law  'em  an'  little  use  to 

kick, 
An'  mighty  sight  less  use  there  is  to  fight. 

There's  them  coughin'    separaters    an'   their 

dirty,  dusty  crews, 

An'  wagons  runnin'  over  with  the  grain; 
With  smoke  a-driftin'  upward  like  a  hearse 

plume  in  the  air, 
The  story  of  its  shadow  sure  is  plain. 

The  wolves  have  left  the  country  an'  the  long- 
horns  are  no  more, 

An'  all  the  game  worth  shootin'  at  is  gone; 
An'  it's  time  fer  me  to  foller,  'cause  I'm  only 

in  the  way, 
An'.  I'd  better  be  a-movin' — movin'  on. 

[15] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  IRRIGATOR 

Was  ridin'  down  a-past  his  place, 

An'  then  I  thinks  I'll  'low 
To  sort  o'  pass  the  time  o'  day 

An'  speak  a  friendly  "how." 

He's  mussin'  'round  there  in  the  mud, 

A  little  dam  he's  got; 
He  'lows  to  make  a  cacti  flat 

Into  a  garden  spot. 

I  says  to  him  the  land's  no  good, 

Fer  farmin'  she  don't  win, 
But  all  he  does  is  slop  around 

An'  kind  o'  funny  grin. 

I  says  the  land's  jes'  useful  fer 
Some  cows  to  raise  an'  range, 

But  he  jes'  grins  an'  hollers  back, 
"There's  goin'  to  be  a  change." 

He's  mussin'  'round  there  in  the  mud, 

A  little  dam  he's  got; 
He  'lows  to  make  a  cacti  flat 

Into  a  garden  spot. 


[16] 


Ranch  and  Range 


THE  SMELL  OF  THE  SAGE  BRUSH  IN 
THE  MORNIN' 

Oh,  the  old,  red  sun  is  risin'  an'  the  air  is 

clean  an'  fine, 

With  jes'  a  little  chill  that  tingles  thro' 
An'  starts  your  thoughts  to  millin'  that  the 

fire  o'  the  cook 

Was  made  jes'  sort  o'  'specially  fer  you. 
But  what  jes'  makes  me  glad  I  simply  am 

alive, 

My  very  heart  with  kindness  sweet  adornin', 
Is   that   keen   an'    bracin'    scent   that   drifts 

across  the  flats, 
The  smell  of  the  sage  brush  in  the  mornin'. 

Have  traveled  many  trails  in  this  camp  you 

call  the  world, 

An'  lived  a  life  as  rough  as  rough  could  be; 
Am  jes'  a  plain,  old  puncher  with  all  a  punch- 
er's faults, 
But  still  there's  things  that  allers  come  to 

me 
At  that  there  time  o'  wakin';  they  be  thoughts 

so  sweet  an'  fine, 

Which  no  artist  or  no  poet  could  go  scornin', 
When   I   catch  that  keen,   clean  scent  that 

drifts  across  the  flats, 
The  smell  of  the  sage  brush  in  the  mornin'. 

[17] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


When  I  cross  the  Great  Divide  an'  my  outfit 

will  no  more 

Know  me  around  its  wagons  or  its  fires; 
I  would  jes'  like  to  say  'fore  I  ups  an'  drifts 

away, 
There's   simply   jes'    one   thing   my   heart 

desires : 
Put  me  where  the  sun  comes  up  to  ride  the 

western  range, 

An'  all  the  land  with  gladness  fine  adornin', 
So  my  ghost  can  sort  o'  come  an'  sense  that 

sweet  perfume, 
The  smell  of  the  sage  brush  in  the  mornin'. 


[18] 


Ranch  and  Range 


FATHER  AND  SON 

(Poetic  Contribution  to  the  Lariet  Lyre} 

His  tough  old  dad  was  wont  to  drive 

Thro'  here  in  days  of  old 
A  freight  outfit  and  by  its  side 

He  walked  and  cussed,  we're  told. 
But  now  his  son,  all  minus  brains, 

Goes  chug-chug  down  the  street; 
He  owns  an  auto,  dontcherknow, 

And  thinks  he's  IT  complete. 

The  old  man  used  to  think  it  sport 

To  fight  and  paw  around, 
And  have  the  bodies  of  his  foes 

All  prostrate  on  the  ground; 
But  mention  fight  to  Willie  dear, 

He'd  "scweam"  for  help,  you  know, 
And  if  a  tree  was  standing  near, 

He'd  up  it  quickly  go. 

The  old  man  used  to  think  it  fine 

To  grab  a  flap- jack  and 
To  feed  his  face  with  nothing  but 

The  fingers  on  his  hand. 
Now  Willie  nibbles  Bran-o-food, 

Quite  pretty  and  quite  sweet, 
And  has  a  clean  napkin,  you  know, 

Whene'er  he  starts  to  eat. 

[19] 


Coivboy  Lyrics 


The  old  man  used  to  frequent  drink 

Of  liquid  lightning  that 
Would  make  him  see  an  elephant 

A-roosting  on  his  hat. 
Now  Willie  takes  a  soda  and 

It  overcomes  his  brain; 
The  soda  has  an  easy  job 

Is  also  very  plain. 

The  old  man  used  to  wear  his  shirt 

For  comfort,  not  for  fit, 
And  many  months  would  pass  away 

Before  he  would  shed  it. 
Now  Willie  dons  a  frilled  concern, 

And  changes  every  morn, 
And  wears  a  cuff  around  his  neck 

His  paw  would  laugh  to  scorn. 

And  thus  you'll  note  the  difference 

'Tween  Willie  and  his  dad; 
It  is  the  truth,  altho'  'twould  make 

'Most  anyone  feel  sad; 
For  Willie's  parent  was  a  man, 

Tho'  rough  and  tough  and  rude; 
But  Willie  is  that  aching  void, 

The  sappy,  modern  dude. 


[20] 


Ranch  and  Range 


WATERLOO  OF  POKER  BILLS 

(A   Poetic  Effort  Recently  Appearing  in  the 
Chaste  Lariet  Lyre) 

Oh,  he  hailed  from  the  Hills,   Black  Hills, 

Black  Hills, 

And  he  went  by  the  name  of  Bills — just  Bills, 
Of  the   head   that   is   swelled  without  more 

words, 

We'll  say  he'd  the  same  to  throw  to  the  birds; 
He  thought  that  of  poker  there  was  no  turn 
That  he  had  ever  omitted  to  learn, 
For  he'd  beat  'em  all  in  the  blue  Black  Hills, 
And  he  longed  for  gore,  did  Bills — did  Bill*. 

And  so  into  Denver  town  went  he 
With  a  ripe,  round  wad  of  currency 
In  tens  and  twenties  and  the  bigger  kind — 
'Twould  make  a  national  bank  go  blind, 
Or  Morgan  pale  or  the  treasury 
Of  Uncle  Sam  know  misery — 
But  Bills — just  Bills,  that  was  his  name — 
Just  simply  said,  "I  want  a  game; 
Is  there  a  man  around  this  camp 
Who  knows  a  flush  from  a  coal  oil  lamp  ? 
Come  on,  I'm  from  the  Hills — Black  Hills, 
An'  my  name  in  full  is  Poker  Bills. 
An*  I'm  here  to  skin  this  coyote  town 
'Til  you  pull  your  freight  or  all  throw  down. 
My  name  is  Bills — youVe  heerd  of  Bills, 
From   the    rocky   caves   of   the   blue    Black 
Hills- 
pi] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


An'  I'm  here  fer  blood,  red  blood,  red  blood, 
An'   the   man   who  plays   me,   his  name   is 
MUD.". 

As  he  finished  speaking  a  sad-eyed  chap, 

With  a  lip  a-droop  like  a  pocket  flap, 

Stepped  forward  and  said,  said  he: 

'Til  go  you  if  I  lose,  by  gee!" 

And  he  throwed  a  wad  that  made  the  chills 

Chase  up  the  back  of  Old  Man  Bills. 

Well,  they  played  and  the  sad-eyed  duck 
Seemed  loaded  down  with  golden  luck; 
But  he  handled  the  pasteboards  awkwardly, 
'Til  a  sand-hill  crane  could  plainly  see 
He  didn't  know  how,  and  Poker  Bills 
Just  smiled  a  bit  as  he  drew  for  "fills." 
But  darn  it  all,  the  sad-eyed  duck 
Held  onto  his  dog-gone,  blame  fool  luck; 
And  he  horned  Old  Bills  for  all  his  pile, 
And  he  did  it  all  in  a  quiet  style, 
And  sweet  and  kind  and  pleasantly, 
'Til  Bills  had  to  grin,  did  he — did  he. 

When  Bills  had  soaked  his  coat  and  vest, 
His  watch  and  chain  and  all  the  rest, 
He  gave  a  gasp  and  he  said,  said  he, 
"Say,  Mister  Man,  who  might  you  be?" 
"Oh,  I  hain't  much,"  replied  Sad  Eyes, 
"An'  Lightnin'  Lige  is  'bout  my  size, 
An'  this  here  is 
My  chosen  biz. 

[22] 


Ranch  and  Range 


An'  let  me  say,  my  Black  Hills  friend, 
Whichever  way  your  tracks  may  wend, 
You'll  find  this  statement  mighty  true — 
There's  allers  someone  as  smart  as  you; 
There's  allers  someone  whose  head  to  yours 
Is  like  the  sky  to  a  scene  indoors.'! 

And  he  shoved  o'er  a  "V," 

Did  he — did  he, 

That  Bills  might  eat  sub-se-qu-ent-ly. 

L'ENVOI 

And  Bills— Old  Bills— Old  Poker  Bills, 

Returned  in  a  box  car  to  the  Hills, 

With  his  mind  made  up  that  to  play  a  game 

'Tis  always  best  to  know  the  same. 

"To  know  it  well,"  said  Poker  Bills, 

The  champion  of  the  blue  Black  Hills, 

"An*  not  allow  your  mind  to  track 

That  the  whole  world  is  an  easy  pack, 

Or  'cause  you  skinned  the  home-folks  that 

You  can't  get  fried  fer  all  your  fat 

Whene'er  by  chance  you  sadly  roam 

Away  from  home,  sweet  home,  sweet  home." 


[23] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


WHEN   DUTCH Y   PLAYS   THE   MOUTH 
HARP 

When  Dutchy  plays  the  mouth  harp,  ev'ry 

puncher  gathers  'round 
To  help  on  with  the  music  by  a-stompin'  on 

the  ground; 
An'  the  cook  he  throws  a  shuffle  an'  the  night 

hawk  pats  his  hand, 
When   Dutchy  plays  the  mouth   harp  in   a 

way  to  beat  the  band: 
Oh,  my  girl  she  has  a  turned-up  nose, 
A  turned-up  nose,  a  turned-up  nose, 
Wella,  wella,  wella,  I  suppose 
That  she  can't  help  that  turned-up  nose. 

When  Dutchy  plays  the  mouth  harp  an'  we've 

cached  our  chuck  away, 
An*  ev'ryone  a-havin'  fun  an'    feelin'    mighty 

gay, 
There's  nothin'  we  likes  better  than  to  lend  a 

helpin'  hand, 
When  Dutchy  plays  the  mouth  harp  in  a  way 

to  beat  the  band: 
Oh,  my  girl  has  got  a  pinto  face, 
A  pinto  face,  a  pinto  face, 
Wella,  wella,  wella,  who  did  place 
Them  freckles  on  her  little  face  ? 

[24] 


Ranch  and  Range 


When  Dutchy  plays  the  mouth  harp — does 

a  cake  walk  something  fine — 
Tis  then  us  old  cowpunchers  come  a-siftin'* 

down  the  line 
A-swingin'  an'  a-shuf-fel'in'  an'  pattin'  o'  the 

hand, 
When  Dutchy  plays  the  mouth  harp  in  a  way 

to  beat  the  band: 

Oh,  my  gM  she  wears  a  number  nine, 
A  number  nine,  a  number  nine, 
Wella,  wella,  wella,  it's  a  sign, 
She  might  as  well  be  wearin'  mine. 


[25] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  BRONCO  BUSTER 

You  rough-necks  think  it  plenty  fun 
To  set  up  there  an'  josh  an'  run 
Your  talk-machines  an'  watch  me  take 
This  here  old  coffin-head  to  break. 

"Stay  with  him,  fan  him!"  What  you  say? 
"Pull  leather?"  Nix;  I'm  here  to  stay; 
No  bronk  that  ever  lived  or  growed, 
This  prairie  chicken  ever  throwed. 

(It  hain't  because  I  hate  this  hoss, 
It's  jes'  because  I  will  be  boss; 
I'll  make  him  know  an'  not  ferget, 
That  I  am  allers  boss,  you  bet!) 

See  that!  he's  gentlin'  down  an'  he 
Tomorrow  will  jes'  f oiler  me 
An'  let  me  scratch  his  head  an'  cheek, 
A  lamb  he'll  beat  fer  bein'  meek. 

Oh,  laff,  you  gobblers,  have  your  fun, 
But  when  with  this  here  job  I'm  done, 
1 11  show  you  would-be's  this  bronk  change, 
An'  lead  the  best  hoss  on  the  range. 


[26] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A  COWBOY  IN  THE  CITY 

Hain't  much  diff'rence,  as  I  see, 
'Tween  the  city  man  an'  me; 
He  says  a  canon  or  divide, 
Or  lonesomeness  o'  prairie  wide 
Jes'  makes  him  feel  as  if  the  earth 
Was  utterly  dee-void  of  mirth. 

Whilst  here  I  stand  an'  watch  the  herd 
A-driftin'  by,  none  say  a  word 
To  me,  or  lift  a  friendly  hand, 
That  I  might  smile  an'  understand. 

It  is  a  law  no  man  can  change — 
Each  hoss  unto  his  chosen  range; 
Jes'  so,  he  wants  the  crowd,  the  noise, 
I  wants  the  prairie  an'  the  boys 
A-stringin'  out  like  wild  geese  fly 
When  spring  roundup's  a-passin'  by. 


[27] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


ROOBIYAT  OF  PIGIN-TOED  PETE 
(A  Fragment  from  the  Files  of  the  Lariet  Lyre) 

I 

Hain't  Life  queer?     To  me  she  seems 
Jes'  like  a  string  of  locoed  dreams 
That  foller  trails  that  lead  nowhere, 
An*  so  I  says,  "Don't  fuss  or  cry  or  care." 

II 

All  happiness  is  but  passin';  'tennyrate, 
Such  be  the  crool  words  o'  Fate; 
You  meets  it  fer  a  minit  by  the  trail, 
Then  some  one  ties  a  tin  can  to  its  tail. 

Ill 

What  crave  I?  'Tain't  nothin'  much — 
A  flap- jack  an'  a  jug  o*  such 
Nose-paint  as  them  godlets  swig,  perchance, 
An'  you  beside  me  at  a  country  dance. 


[28] 


Ranch  and  Range 


DOC  PIERCE'S  CHOICE 

My  friend,  Doc  Pierce — well,  Doc  an'  me 
Set  in  the  hotel,  an'  there  be 
An  orchestray  a-playin'  of 
Some  highfalootin'  dream  o'  love. 
Says  Doc:  "That's  music,  I  suppose — 
An  Injun  thinks  a  hat  is  clothes — 
But  shucks!    it  hain't  the  kind  that  stays 
An'  makes  you  think  o'  other  days; 
An'  makes  you  go  to  feelin'  sad 
B 'cause  you  can't  help  feelin'  glad; 
An'  makes  you  go  to  feelin'  glad 
B'cause  you  can't  help  feelin'  sad. 

"Now-days  real  music  they  don't  know, 
These  long-haired  dudelets  with  the  bow, 
A-pawin'  an'  a-twistin'  'round, 
Be  jes'  emittin'  of  a  sound. 
Their  souls  don't  talk  thro'  them  there  strings, 
They  hain't  got  folks  to  dreamin'  things — 
I  say  these  fancy  fiddlers,  now, 
O'  makin'  music  don't  know  how ! 

"One  time  I  trails,"  Doc  Pierce  goes  on, 
"Up  from  the  South,  out  West  I'm  gone, 
An'  drifts  around  from  camp  to  camp, 
Until  one  night  old  Nature's  stamp 
Falls  on  my  heart — an'  I,  well,  I 
Am  that  homesick  I  want  to  die. 

[29] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


"I  sees  a  place  an'  wanders  in    • 
To  watch  the  games  an'  hear  the  tin 
A-changin'  hands,  an'  likewise  see 
If  any  one  on  earth  knows  me. 
About  that  time  a  kid  drifts  in 
A-totin'  of  a  violin — 
A  riddle,  sure,  it  was  his  game 
To  drift  around  an'  play  the  same. 

"Talk  o'  makin'  dumb  things  speak! 
You  ought  to  see  that  there  boy's  cheek 
Lay  lovin'-like  on  that  noise-box, 
Whilst  on  his  heels  he  stands  an'  rocks, 
An'  lets  his  soul  sift  down  them  strings 
An'  tell  you  all  the  sweetest  things 
You  ever  heerd  of  in  your  life, 
From  courtin'  down  to  mortal  strife. 

"An*  when  he  lets  her  die  away, 

I  rise  up  here  an'  beg  to  say 

It  seemed  the  world  got  dark  an'  cold, 

Like  when  you  know  you're  gettin'  old. 

An'  then  I  says  to  him  right  then, 

'Say,  son,  I  antes  up  a  ten 

If  you'll  jes'  give  my  heart  a  treat — 

Play  "Sunny  Southern  Skies"  complete.' 

"The  kid  he  nods,  then  slams  his  chin 
Up  close  to  that  old  violin, 
An'  draws  the  bow — he  knew  his  job — 
An'  then  she  starts  to  cry  an'  sob; 
An'  underneadst  the  cryin'  seems 

[30] 


Ranch  and  Range 


To  run  a  millyun  little  streams 
Of  joy  an'  happiness  an'  smiles — 
An'  then,  well,  then,  talk  o'  the  trials! 

"I  swallers  an'  I  s wallers  more, 
An'  stands  there  blinkin'  at  the  floor; 
An'  then  thro'  misty  eyes  I  sees 
A  tough  old  rooster  try  to  sneeze, 
Pertendin'  like  he  had  a  cold — 
Thinks  I,  'Old  boy,  that  game  is  old;' 
An'  then  I  pulls  my  hat  cl'ar  down 
An'  passes  out  an'  drifts  uptown, 
With  that  dear  song  a-ha'ntin'  me 
Jes'  like  a  ghost  o'  melody. 

'  'Neath  Sunny  Southern  Skies,'  you  bet! 
There  hain't  a  piece  been  written  yet 
An'  played  as  that  there  kid  played  it 
An'  made  a  heart-shot,  center  hit. 

"That's  why  this  high-flung  music  goes 
Right  past  my  ears  an'  never  throws 
One  shiver  in  my  skelp — fer  why  ? 
B 'cause  the  player's  heart  is  dry. 
He  don't  play  up  the  soul-game  strong, 
Or  give  some  heartache  to  his  song; 
That's  why  I  say  my  choice  I'll  throw 
Strong  fer  that  piece  played  years  ago 
Out  in  a  camp  where  homesick  hearts 
Give  to  the  tears  some  easy  starts, 
An'  that  there  kid  jes'  closed  his  eyes 
An'  led  me  back  'neath  southern  skies."- 

[31] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


AN  ORACLE  OF  THE  PLAINS 

A  bow-legged  cowboy  sat  rolling,  one  day, 
A  cute  cigarette  in  his  own  nimble  way; 
And  when  he  had  finished  the  coffin  nail,  he 
Delivered  this  wisdom  free  gratis  to  me: 

"What's  the  use  fer  to  worry,  or  even  to  fret, 
Per  the  things  of  the  world  you  never  will  get  ? 
An'  likewise  she's  true  that  fer  me  or  fer  you, 
There's  jes'  about  one  or  two  tricks  we  can  do; 
Be  as  good  as  we  know  an'  cut  out  the  bad, 
An*  allers  be  cheerful  an'  never  get  mad; 
Fer  the  frownin'  face  gathers  the  wrinkles, 

my  friend, 
An'  the  smilin'  one  stays  like  a  boy's  to  the 

end." 

Thus  the  bow-legged  puncher  delivered  ad- 
vice 

In  a  style  not  offensive  but  studiously  nice; 

And  then  smiling  quaintly  he  winked  at  the 
sky 

In  a  way  that  was  childish  but  wickedly  sly. 


[32] 


Ranch  and  Range 


THE  WIDOW'S  LOT 

Mis'  Pike  jes'  called — the  first  time  fer 
A  month  o'  Sundays  I've  seen  her — 
She  took  on  scan'luss  about  me 
A-livin'  here  alone  an'  she 
Jes'  upped  an'  said  a  ranch  was  not 
A  place  fer  widders,  an'  she  sot 
An'  harped  on  that  one  string  'til  I 
Jes'  shut  her  mouth  with  tea  an'  pie. 

Poor  William's  dead  nigh  on  a  year, 
But  I  can't  say  I'm  pinin'  here; 
An'  law  me !  what's  a  soul  to  do, 
What's  goin'  onto  forty-two? 
Fer  who'll  dispoot  a  real  live  man 
Around  a  ranch  is  handy,  an' 
Jack  Plummer  says  to  me  last  night — 
He  jes'  stopped  in  to  get  a  bite 
O'  chicken  pie — he  says,  says  he : 
"You  ain't  a  day  o'er  twenty-three." 
But  Jack  is  such  a  josher  that 
He's  allers  talkin'  thro'  his  hat. 

The  other  day  Bill  Howe  drove  by, 
An'  said  the  cricks  were  jes'  bank  high, 
An'  he'd  a  four-hoss  load  an'  he 
Declared  he'd  leave  some  truck  with  mt , 
A  sack  o'  flour  an'  some  corn, 
A  sack  o'  sugar  which  was  torn, 

[33] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Which  Bill  jes'  vowed  would  go  to  waste 
Unless  sweet  things  was  to  my  taste. 

A  week  ago  John  Nye  drove  in — 

His  heart  is  big  if  he  is  thin — 

He  said  he'd  butchered  an'  he  thought 

A  side  o'  beef  an'  bacon  ought 

To  nohow  meet  with  my  re-fuse, 

Since  he  had  more  than  he  could  use. 

An*  there's  Hank  Dalley,  ev'ry  day 
He  sort  o'  drops  in  that-o-way, 
To  see  if  there's  a  chore  to  do, 
An*  then  jes'  stays  the  whole  day  thro'; 
An'  jes'  flares  up  when  I  talk  "pay," 
Fer  Hank's  right  touchy,  an'  he'll  say: 
"I  haven't  got  a  thing  to  do, 
It's  exercise  to  work  fer  you." 

An'  so  between  them  all,  you  see, 
There's  lots  that's  worser  off  than  me; 
The  ranch  is  clear,  an'  eggs  an'  truck 
Bring  prices  high,  an'  then  I've  luck 
With  all  my  stock,  that's  bound  to  grow — 
But  yet  there's  one  thing  which  I  know, 
An'  might  as  well  say  to  your  face, 
A  man's  most  handy  'round  a  place; 
But  William's  gone  an'  there's  no  more — 
Land  sakes!  There's  Dalley  at  the  door! 


[34] 


Ranch  and  Range 


THE  CHUCK  WAGON 

Cowpuncher's  cafay, 
It  is  that-o-way, 
An'  we  strike  it  kerslam   'bout  three  times 

a  day; 

When  cook  yells,  "Come  get  it!" 
He  don't  have  to  plead, 

"Hi   yip!   all  you  logics,   come  gather  your 
feed!" 


[35] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


BRANDING  PEN  GOSSIP 

Lem  Scobey  says  to  me  one  time, 

"I  wouldn't  give  a  meas'ly  dime 

Per  any  man  what  throws  a  calf, 

An'  gives  that  braggin'  sort  o'  laff 

As  if  he  thought  there  ought  to  rest 

A  leather  medal  on  his  breast, 

B'cause  he's  got  more  stren'th  than  branes- 

Such  swell-head  dubs  fill  me  with  panes." 

Lem  says,  "I  love  a  good  cowpunch 

What  does  his  work  an'  does  not  lunch 

On  his  conceit  'most  all  the  while 

He's  showin'  off  his  muscle's  style. 

'"Tennyrate,"  Lem  adds  to  me, 

As  we  grabs  one,  "there  ought  to  be 

A  law  agin  such  sort  o'  men 

A-ras'lin'  in  a  brandin'  pen; 

I'd  like  to  see  such  would-be's  fired, 

They  surely  makes  me  mighty  tired," 


[36] 


Ranch  and  Range 


IN  THE  GUMBO 

No  use  to  kick,  no  use  to  swear, 
Jes'  go  in  camp  an'  settle  there; 
Fer  good  old  patience,  this  I  know, 
Your  other  name  is  jes'  gumbo. 


[37] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


HANK  LAIMER'S  KID 

Only  youngun  on  the  range, 

Cutest  kid  what  is, 
Got  us  all  upon  his  string, 

Put  us  out  o'  biz. 

Bring  him  presents  from  the  town, 

Tickles  him  to  death, 
Little  cuss  jumps  up  an'  down 

'Til  he's  out  o'  breath. 

Calls  me  "nuncle"  an'  his  maw 

Says  he  loves  me,  too; 
Say,  if  I  had  one  like  him, 

Don't  know  what  I'd  do. 

Kids  are  great,  I'm  here  to  say, 
Greatest  things  what  is, 

Get  to  love  'em  an'  they'll  sure 
Put  you  out  o'  biz. 

Bring  him  presents  from  the  town, 

Tickles  him  to  death, 
Little  cuss  jumps  up  an'  down 

'Til  he's  out  o'  breath. 


[38] 


Ranch  and  Range 


ANIMAL  RHYMES 

(Contributed  to  the  Lariet  Lyre  by  Willie  Wes- 
tern, Age  10) 

THE  COYOTE 

The  coyote  he's  the  smartest  one, 

Arithmatick's  his  choice; 
He  likes  to  set  up  late  at  nights 

An'  multiply  his  voice. 

THE  PRAIRIE  DOG 

The  prairie  dog  hain't  got  much  sense, 

His  manners  are  a  shame; 
But  don't  find  fault  with  him,  b 'cause 

His  parents  are  to  blame. 

THE  INDIAN 

The  Injun  he's  a  savage  an' 

He  likes  to  eat  an'  rest ; 
He  wears  some  paint,  a  look  o'  scorn, 

An'  thinks  that  he  is  drest. 

THE  BRONCO 

The  bronco  likes  to  roam  the  wild, 

An'  snort  an'  rip  an'  tear, 
An'  kick  a  yard  o'  nothin'  from 

The  outside  of  the  air. 

[39] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  BAD  MAN 

I  think  a  bad  man  curious, 
He  shoots  folks  in  a  rage ; 

You  never  see  him  anywheres 
Except  upon  the  stage. 

THE  COWBOY 

The  cowboy  he's  a  funny  man, 

As  funny  as  can  be, 
He  smokes  a  millyun  cigarettes 

But  won't  give  one  to  me. 

THE  TENDERFOOT 

The  tenderfoot's  the  funniest 

Critter  o'  the  plains, 
My  paw  says  they  is  hooman, 

But  they  hasn't  any  branes. 

THE  GIRL 

The  girl  is  nice  to  look  at, 
An'  purty  as  the  deuce, 

But  my,  she  knows  so  little, 
She's  hardly  any  use. 

THE  PORCUPINE 

The  porkupine  is  grate  on  jokes, 
He's  a  yoomerist  like  me; 

'Most  ev'rything  he  says  is  sharp 
An'  pinted  as  can  be. 


[40] 


Ranch  and  Range 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  RANCH 

My  dad  he's  gone  an'  mammy  sez, 

I  be  the  man  eroun'  this  place; 
But  funny  way  she  sez  it,  coz 

The  tears  des  runned  all  down  her  face. 
They  corned  one  day  an'  took  my  dad, 

An'  'n  they  upped  an'  driv  away. 
"A-rustlin'  stock — ten  years  fer  you," 

Is  what  I  heerd  one  man  des  say. 

I  be  the  man  eroun'  this  ranch, 

But,  oh,  last  night  my  mammy  cried, 
'N  loved  me  like  I  wuz  a  kid, 

'N  helt  me  right  up  to  her  side. 
She  sez  it  all  is  fer  the  best, 

An'  'at  the  Lord  will  sure  pervide, 
'N  after  while  I  goes  to  sleep, 

Des  snuggled  up  to  mammy's  side. 

I  be  the  man  eroun'  this  ranch, 

My  mammy  sez  so,  an'  you  see, 
They  dassent  hurt  her  coz  I  guess 

They  know  that  she  belongs  to  me. 
But  what  fer  duz  she  cry  an'  cry, 

An'  why  don't  no  one  visit  us? 
My  dad  he's  gone  an'  I'm  boss  now, 

What  be  the  use  o'  all  this  fuss? 


[41] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


TAMED 

Jim  Shivers  was  the  baddest  man  in  the  camp, 

b'  jingo, 

Not  a  feller  dast  to  give  him  a  bit  o'  lingo; 
Up  an'   shoot?     Well,    I   should  say,   an'   he 

never  tarried 
In    his    reckulous    career    'til     he    went    an' 

married. 
Now  when  Jim  do  say  a  word  or  do  a  bit  o* 

tellin', 
Or  gets  his  old  time  dander  up  an'  has  a  fit 

o'  yellin', 
His  wife  jes'  says: 

"You  great  big  clown! 

You  jes'  shut  up  an'  you  jes'  set  down !" — 

An  Jim  does  both. 

He's  meek  as  any  lamb  you'd  see,  meekest 

sort  o'  critter, 
Any   boy   around   the   camp   run   him   to   a 

fritter; 
Never  has  a  word  to  say,  never  does  no  gun- 

nin', 

Any  shootin'  goin'  on  all  he  does  is  runnin'. 
Jes'  b'cause  he's  got  a  wife  not  afeerd  to  cross 

him, 
An'  'twould  do  you  good  to  see  that  there 

woman  boss  him, 

[42] 


Ranch  and  Range 


An'  hear  her  say: 

"You  great  big  clown! 

You   jes'    shut    up    an'    you   jes'    set 

down!" — 
An'  Jim  does  both. 


[43] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


SPRINGTIME  ON  THE  RANGE 

Oh,  it's  gettin'  onto  spring,  an'  so  let  us  up 

an'  sing 

Of  the  greenin'  of  the  prairies  in  the  sun, 
An'  the  comin'  of  the  birds  an'  the  fat'nin' 

of  the  herds — 
Start  a  tunin'  up  your  voices  ev'ry  one. 

Oh,  my!  see  the  smilm'  sky,  winter's  gettin' 
ready  fer  to  slide, 

Air's  some  warmer,  hain't  it,  say? 

Chinook,  yes,  an'  breath  o'  May, 
An'  crocuses  along  the  Big  Divide. 

Soon  a  feller  hears  an'  sees  blackbirds  millin' 

in  the  trees, 

Soon  the  roses  will  bebloomin'  fer  the  May. 
Oh,    it's    comin' — don't    you    feel    that    it's 

gettin'  time  to  peel 
All  your  winter  ways  an'  sort  o'  sweetly  say : 

Oh,  my!  see  the  smilin'  sky,  winter's  gettin' 
ready  fer  to  slide, 

Air's  some  warmer,  hain't  it,  say? 

Chinook,  yes,  an'  breath  o'  May, 
An'  crocuses  along  the  Big  Divide. 


[44] 


Ranch  and  Range 


DOWN  AT  HALLER'S  DANCIN' 

They's  tunin'  up  the  orchestray  down  at  old 

Bill  Haller's, 
He's  the  feller  that  they  claim  jes'  beats  all 

the  callers 

In  the  country   'round  fer  miles — old  bow- 
legged  feller ; 
Say,  you  ought  to  hear  that  cuss  jes'  get  up 

an'  beller: 

Balance  all  an'  do-see-do, 
Rope  her,  tie  her,  let  her  go, 
Mill  her  'round  an'  kiss  her  there, 
Prom'nade  all,  you  know  where. 

Choose  your  partners!  H-m-m-m!  well,  yes, 

grab  the  next  one  after, 
'Twont  harm  no  thin'  if  you  do  shake  the  roof 

with  lafter; 
Fer     she's     joy-time,     whoop -hi -ree !      Come 

around  a-prancin', 
Guess  there's  nothin'  like  the  time  down  at 

Haller's  dancin'. 

She's  your  true  love,  you  can  bet, 
There's  no  dead  ones  in  that  set! 
Lope  her  'round  an'  squeeze  her  there, 
Prom'nade  all,  you  know  where. 

Hear  them  fiddles !    Hain't  they  great!    SufT- 

rin'  Land  o'  Lawdy! 
Ragtime,   night  time,   high  time,   too,   come 

a-steppin'  gawdy, 

[45] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Come  a-sailin'  down  the  line,  whoop-a-lorum ! 

let  her, 
Seems  to  me   there's  no  thin'   that  makes   a 

man  feel  better. 
Mornin'  is  a  mile  away, 
Never  'spect  to  hit  the  hay, 
She's  a-waitin',  wake  up  there! 
Prom'nade  all,  you  know  where. 

Hear  old  Haller,  hear  him  now,  all  above  the 

funnin', 
Jes'  a-laffin',  calling  too,  keeps  the  thing  a- 

runnin', 
Round  me  up  an'  turn  me  loose!  Let  me  go 

a-prancin', 
All  I  wants  is  jes'  to  yell  down  at  Haller's 

dancin'. 

If  you  love  her  tell  her  so, 
Rope  her,  brand  her,  let  her  go, 
Round  her  up  an'  hold  her  there, 
Prom'nade  all,  you  know  where. 


[46] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A  MORAL-LESS  TALE 
(Poetic  Contribution  to  the  Lariet  Lyre) 

She  was  a  perfect  lady 
And  she  rode  the  northern  range, 
Being  courted  by  a  creature  who  was  careful 

of  his  change; 

When  he'd  have  to  spend  a  dollar 
He  would  raise  a  weird,  wild  "holler," 
And  grumble  in  a  manner  both  uncouth  and 
very  strange. 

But  this  wise  and  perfect  lady 
Who  rode  the  northern  range 
Had  a  mind  in  no  way  feeble  or  afflicted  with 

the  mange; 

So  she  sued  for  breach  of  promise 
This  one  Doubting  Tightwad  Thomas, 
And  to  pay  her  and  the  lawyers  cost  him 
cattle,  ranch  and  range. 

There's  no  moral  to  this  story 
Otherwise  than  it  is  true, 
Ladies  now  from  east  to  westward  seem  to 

know  a  thing  or  two; 
Thus  it  is  not  talking  madly 
When  we  observe  quite  gladly, 
Our  ladies  trot  as  swiftly  as  the  best  of  them 
can  do, 


[47] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


KICK  OF  THE  RANCH  HAND 

Dern  my  hide,  I  feel  so  lazy, 
Feel  so  stretchy,  feel  so  dazy, 
An'  the  old,  red  day  is  dawnin', 
An'  I'm  layin'  here  an'  yawnin', 
Thinkin'  if  I  had  a  dollar, 
Like  to  see  the  man  who'd  holler, 
Or  e'en  dare  to  whisp'rin'  say : 
"Get  up,  Jim,  don't  sleep  all'day." 

What  man  is  there  in  the  land 

Has  the  trubbles  of  a  hand? 

Go  to  bed  at  dark  an'  more, 

You  gets  up  at  half -past  four; 

An'  you  pail  'bout  forty-six 

Gosh -blamed  cow-brutes,  an'  the  tricks 

That  they  play  an'  put  on  you 

Jes'  would  make  an  angel  stew. 

Honestly,  I  get  so  mad 
That  sometimes  I  wish  I  had 
Power  to  jes'  make  one  swipe, 
An'  each  kickin'  cow-brute  wipe 
Off  this  whirlin',  jiggy  earth, 
Fer  'twould  give  me  scads  o'  mirth — 
Honestly,  I  know  it  would 
Do  me  jes'  a  sight  o'>  good. 

[48] 


Ranch  and  Range 


An'  there's  pigs  to  slop  an'  feed ; 
Give  the  hosses  what  they  need; 
See  the  chickens  all  are  fed, 
An'  the  pigins  overhead. 
An'  there's  water  fer  to  bring 
From  that  singy-songy  spring; 
An'  there's  wood  to  chop — an'  all 
This  is  done  'fore  breakfast  call. 

Then  you  hook  the  plow  team  on, 
An'  go  stragglin'  thro'  the  dawn; 
Work  an'  work  an'  sweat  all  day, 
Work   an'  work  an'  work  away. 
Dern  my  hide,  I  feel  so  lazy, 
Feel  so  stretchy,  feel  so  dazy, 
An'  the  old,  red  day  is  dawnin', 
An'  I'm  layin'  here  an'  ya-a-a-aw-nin', 


[49] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


A  FRAGMENT 

(From  the  Facile  Pen   of   the  Editor   of   the 
Lariet  Lyre) 

I  never  thunk  a  thought  as  yet, 

Some  shinin'  wisdom  in  a  chunk, 
But  what  I  finds  some  other  yap 

That  same  old  dreary  thought  had  thunk. 
Some  other  yap  in  other  days 

His  care-worn  intelleck  had  caught 
Upon  the  nail  of  hard  luck  then, 

An'  jes'  ripped  out  that  same  old  thought. 
That  same  old  thought — the  one  I  thunk 

Was  mine — an'  by  it  set  a  store, 
Until  I  finds  it  had  been  sprung 

A  thousand  years  or  so  before. 


[50] 


Ranch  and  Range 


BALDY  JOE'S  SIMPLE  RHYME 

Oh,  I  know  an  old  cowpuncher,  an'  they  call 

him  Baldy  Joe, 
B'cause  his  hair  is  something  which  is  absent, 

don't  you  know; 
An'  he  sits  up  in  the  saddle,  sort  o'  lives  there 

all  the  time, 

An'  a-hummin'  an'  a-hummin'  this  here  sim- 
ple little  rhyme: 

There  hain't  no  sense  like  a  logie  fer  to  set, 
'Cause    you    think    you   hain't   a-gettin' 

what  you  think  you  ought  to  get. 
So  it's  quit  your  jawin',keep  a  tight  rein 

on  your  lip, 

An'     brace     yourself     an'     allers     keep 
a-cinchin'  up  your  grip. 

Joe  is  a  queerish  critter,  he's  a  mighty  funny 

man; 
Never  has  a  speck  of  trubble  an'  you  never, 

never  can 
Hear  him  kickin'  or  complainin',    'cause  he's 

happy  all  the  time, 
Jes'  a-hummin'  that  aforesaid  an'  quite  simple 

little  rhyme. 

[51] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Been  a-thinkin'  an'  a-thinkin'  if  the  world 

was  fashioned  so, 
She'd  tally  with  the  hummin'  of  that  happy 

feller  Joe; 

She'd  be  a  blamed  sight  better,  get  some  bet- 
ter all  the  time, 
'Cause  there's  a  heap  o'  hoss  sense  in  his  simple 

little  rhyme: 
There  hain't  no  sense  like  a  logie  fer  to 

set, 
'Cause    you   think    you   hain't    a-gettin' 

what  you  think  you  ought  to  get. 
So  it's  quit  your  jawin',  keep  a  tight  rein 

on  your  lip, 

An'     brace     yourself     an*     allers     keep 
a-cinchin'  up  your  grip, 


[52] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A  COARSE  LACK  OF  APPRECIATION 

I'm   the   sweetest   sort   o'  singer,  but   'most 

ev'ry  time  I  sing, 
Some  ig'rant  man's  remarkin',  "Who  choked 

that  calf — poor  thing;" 
An'  then  the  boys  all  leave  me  an'  sadly  drift 

away, 
When  I  sets  up  a-pealin'  this  here  charmin' 

roundelay : 

Oh,    Susan,    you're    my  .trewest   friend, 
I  will  not  hold  your  hand, 
I  will  not  tell  you  of  my  love, 
You  would  not  understand — 
You  would  not  understa-a-a — 
You  would  not  understa-a-a-a-and. 

I  hates  to  see  my  friends  all  leave  an'  "excuse 

me"  never  say, 
Shows    'preciation's  lackin'   of  the   fine   arts 

that-o-way; 
Per  when  I  sings  serprano  I  cannot  help  it 

grieve, 
To  see  each  son-of-a-gun  get  up  an'  leave — 

so  ca'mly  leave. 

Oh,   Susan,   you're  my  trewest  friend, 
I  will  not  hold  your  hand, 
I  will  not  tell  you  of  my  love, 
You  would  hot  understand — 
You  would  not  understa-a-a — 
You  would  not   understa-a-a-a-and. 

[53] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


COWBOY'S   SALVATION   SONG 

Oh,  it's  move  along,  you  dogies,  don't  be 
driftin'  by  the  way, 

Per  there's  goin'  to  be  a  roundup  an'  a-cut- 
tin'  out,  they  say, 

Of  all  the  devil's  rangers  an'  a-movin'  at  sun- 
rise, 

An'  you'd  better  be  preparin'  fer  a  long  drive 
to  the  skies. 

Oh,  it's  move  along,  you  dogies,  don't  be  drift- 
in'  by  the  way, 

Fer  the  boss  of  all  the  rus'lers  is  a-comin' 
'round  today; 

So  you  better  be  a-movin',  throw  your  dust 
right  in  his  eyes, 

An'  hit  the  trail  a-flyin'  fer  the  home  ranch 
in  the  skies. 

So  it's  move  along,  you  dogies,  fer  the  devil 

has  in  hand 
A  bunch  of  red-hot  irons  an'  he's  surely  goin' 

to  brand 
All  his  cattle  an'   some  others,   an'  mighty 

sudden,  too, 
So  you'd  better  be  a-movin'  so  he  won't  be 

brandin'  you. 

[54] 


Ranch  and  Range 


Oh,  it's  move  along,  you  dogies,  tho'  you  have 

the  mange  o'  sin, 
There's  a  range  you're  sure  to  shake  it  when 

you  come  a-trailin'  in, 
Where   the   grass   is    allers   growin'    an*    the 

water's  allers  pure, 
So  it's  sift  along,  you  dogies,  'fore  the  devil 

brands  you  sure. 


[55] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  BOYS  ARE  COMIN'  TO  TOWN 

The  boys  are  comin'  to  town,  whoop  la! 

What  does  the  marshal  do? 
He's  gone  an'  hid,  that's  what  he  did, 

Fer    he    knows    a    thing    or    two — 
Fer  he  knows  a  thing  or  two,  yip,  yip! 

Fer  he  knows  a  thing  or  two. 

The  boys  are  comin'  to  town,  ker  bang! 

What  does  the  dogs  all  do? 
They  hits  the  trail  with  a  canine  wail, 

Fer  they  knows  a  thing  or  two — 
Fer  they  knows  a  thing  or  two,  ki  yi! 

Fer  they  knows  a  thing  or  two. 

The  boys  are  comin'  to  town,  Oh,  my! 

What  does  the  old  town  do? 
She  goes  to  bed  while  they  paint'er  red, 

Fer  she  knows  a  thing  or  two — 
Fer  she  knows  a  thing  or  two,  wow,  wow! 

Fer  she  knows  a  thing  or  two — 


[56] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A    SUNSHINE    SONG 

He  sets  on  the  side  walk  from  mornin'  'til 

night, 

Singiir  an'  singin'  an'  singin', 
"What's  the  use  fer  to  worry  if  today  is  all 

right?" 

Singin'  an'  singin'  an'  singin'. 
"Fer  we  hain't  goin'  to  linger  here  so  very 

long, 
So  what  yap   will   say   that  a   feller's  dead 

wrong, 
If  he  turns  loose  his  voice  in  a  joy-laden 

song?" 
Singin'  an'  singin'  an'  singin'. 

"It's  a  cinch  when  we  dies  we'll  be  dead  fer 

some  time," 

Singin'  an'  singin'  an*  singin', 
"So   wh}'   not   enjoy   all   the  things    o'   this 

clime?" 

Singin'  an'  singin'  an'  singin'. 
"Oh,  why  not  jes'  shed  ev'ry  trubble  an'  all, 
An'  camp  in  the  light  'til  the  dark  shadders 

fall? 
She'll  be  night  soon  enuff,  jes'  you  hark  to 

my  call," 
Singin'  an'  singin'  an*  singin', 


[57] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  WOULD-BE  COWPUNCHER 

It's  been  out  here  a  half  a  year, 

An'  thinks  that  It  is  bad, 
But  when  we  takes  a  look  at  It, 

Our  weary  hearts  feel  sad. 

It  wears  a  gun  'most  all  the  time, 
What  fer  we  do  not  know, 

We  asks  no  questions  lest  we  makes 
Of  ignerance  a  show. 

It  uster  be  a  sap-head  clerk 

Down  in  old  I-o-way, 
But  now  It  is  a  ba-a-a-d  cowpunch, 
So  we  have  heerd  It  say. 

We  often  wonders  if  It  is 

Of  any  earthly  use, 
An*  set  around  an'  ask  ourselves, 

"Whoever  turns  that  loose?" 

It's  been  out  here  a  half  a  year, 
An'  thinks  that  It  is  bad, 

But  when  we  takes  a  look  at  It, 
Our  weary  hearts  feel  sad. 


[58] 


Ranch  and  Range 


JIM  DAVIS  AND  THE  BICYCLE  MAN 

Jim  Davis  is  an  old  cowpunch 

(You  certainly  knows  Jim?) 
So   listen,   boys,   an'   I   will   tell 

What  happens  unto  him. 
He's  drivin'  beef  herd  into  Miles, 

But  'fore  he  gets  there  meets 
A  feller  on  a  wheel  an'  then 

That  beef  herd   surely   beats 
The    record    fer    the    big    stampedes — 

An*  Jim,  I've  heerd  him  say, 
Jes'    sets    right    still    fer    quite    a    spell, 

To  sort  o'  think  an' — pray. 
Then   Jim   gets   off  his   bronco   bird, 

An'  seeks  the  bike  man's  life, 
Engagin'  him,  as  poets  say, 

In   "bitter   mortal    strife." 
"I   does  not  beat  you  'cause  you's   scared 

Five  hundred  steers  or  more, 
'Tis  not  fer  that,"  says  angry  James, 

"I  dabbles  in  your  gore. 
It  is  b'cause  I  hates  a  fool, 

Weak    product    o'    the    town, 
Who's    so   blamed   lazy   that   he   walks — 

Jes'  walks  a-settin'  down." 


[59] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


JED    WILLIAMS 

Know   Jed   Williams?     Blamedest   man 
You'll  ever  see  or  ever  can; 
'Pears    like    there's    nothin'    can    disturb 
That    critter    in    his    ca'm    perturb 
In    viewin'    things    o'    this    here    life, 
With   nary   hitch   or   fret   or   strife; 
Fer   trubble   gives  him   all  the   track, 
An*   never   once   does   she   talk   back. 

Jed    craves    terbacker    fearful    sight, 

Seems    tho*   he's    got    a    appertite 

Fer    eatin'    it — you    never    seed 

The  man   could  beat  him  at   the   weed. 

No  matter  what  or  who  you  be, 

Be  you  yourself  or  be  you  me, 

If   old    Jed's    'round    he's    sure   to    say — 

A-passin'   o'   the   time   o'   day — 

He'll  say:   "Fine  weather,  finest  ever  saw, 

How's  your  chewin'?     Give  us  a  chaw." 

Was   thinkin'  now  when  Jed's  first  wife 
Unhitched    herself   from   this    here   life — 
She's  raised  right  here  in  this  old  town — 
An'  when  they   lets   the   coffin   down, 

[60] 


Ranch  and  Range 


Old  Jed  jes'  turned  to  me  an'  said — 
He  pays  no  'tenshun  to  the  dead — 
Says   he:     "Fine   weather,   finest   ever   saw, 
How's  your  chewin'?     Give  us  a  chaw." 

Some  day  old  Jed  lays  down  his  hand, 
An'   seeks   a   strange  but   warmer   land, 
Where   the   range   boss   is   mighty  mean, 
An'  wears  his  tail  ear-marked  between. 
'Spects  then   old  Jed   in   his   ca'm  way 
Will   size    Nick   up   an*   drawlin'    say — 
He'll   say:    "Fine  weather,  finest  ever  saw, 
How's  your  chewin'?     Give  us  a  chaw," 


[61] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE    NIFTY    COWPUNCHER 

Allers  wears  the  finest  duds  ever  you  did 

see, 
What  he  owns  the  very  best  simply's  got 

to    be; 
An'   his   boots,   well,   place   your   bet,   they 

take   all    the   tricks, 
Made  to  order,  high  o'  heel,  'bout  a  number 

six. 
As  fer  hat,  he's  sure  there  strong,  best  that 

coin   can   buy, 
White  an'  wide  o'  brim  the  same,  crown  a 

little   high. 

Chaps,  he  likes  the  fancy  kind,  angorees 
the  best, 

Spurs,  well,  jinglin'  dreams!  Oh,  my! 
finest  in  the  west; 

Gun,  don't  pack  it  much  these  days,  han- 
dle's made  o'  pearl, 

Silver-plated  forty-five,  pretty   as   a   girl. 

Belt  is  simply  out  o'  sight,  holster  jes'  the 
same, 

Never  counts  the  cost,  that  boy,  so  he's  in 
the  game, 

[62] 


Ranch  and  Range 


Saddle,  well,  that  cost  a  heap,  pockets  go 
with  chaps, 

Per  that  outfit  on  the  boards  he  a  hundred 
slaps — 

Hundred  plunks  it  cost  him,  sure,  that  be 
the  amount, 

But  that  saddle  means  his  grub  an'  his 
bank  account. 

So  he  rides  across  the  range,  yellin'  some- 
what rude, 

Careless,  reckless,  nifty  cuss,  reg'ler  prairie 
dude, 


[63] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  COWBOY  AND  THE  STORK 

Bill  Munson's  wife  was  sick,  you  see, 
Old   Bill  he  says  that   night   to   me: 
"Go  get  a  doctor  on  the  run," 
An'  then  I  grabs  that  muckle-dun 
Out-law  an'  jams   him   forty   mile, 
An'  then   I   gets  a   gray  a  while, 
An'  leaves  him  at  the.  lazy  T, 
A-thinkin'  some  mean  thoughts  o'  me. 
An'  then  I  gets  a  roan  an'  he 
Was  jes'  a  hoss  I  loves  to  see; 
He  jes'  strings  out  an'  drags  her  down, 
An'   soon  we's   siftin'  into  town. 
The  Doc  drives  back  an'  now  old  Bill 
T'other    day   gives   me   a   thrill — 
The  blamed  old  cuss  he  did,  by  gee! 
He   names   that   kidlet   after   me, 


[64] 


Ranch  and  Range 


RANCH    LULLABY 

Baby,  won't  you  go  to  sleep? 
The  dark  is  on  an'  your  pa's  gone, 

Little  one,  go  to  sleep; 

Baby,   baby,    what   would   you   do, 
If  a   coyote   jes'    stoled   you? 

Dearie,  won't  you  go  to  sleep? 

Baby,    won't    you    go    to    sleep? 
The  pines  do  sing  like  everything, 

Little  one,  go  to  sleep; 
Baby,  baby,  jes'  fly  away 
Into    Dreamland's    shinin'    day, 

Dearie,  won't  you  go  to  sleep? 

Baby,    won't    you    go    to    sleep? 
Ride  to  rest  on  your  ma's  breast, 

Little  one,  go  to  sleep; 

Baby,    baby,    your    little    hands 
Wave  the  trail  to  Sleepylands, 

Dearie,  won't  you  go  to  sleep? 


[65] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


A  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  DOCTOR 

Oh,  here's  to  the  Doc,  the  good  old  Doc, 
An'  the  things  he  has  done  fer  us, 

An'  the  miles  he  has  rode  thro'  the  winter 

storms, 
'Thout  makin'  a  bit  o'  fuss. 

An*    here's    to    the    Doc    who    worked    an' 

watched, 

When  he  knew  that  old  Death  was  near, 
An'  the  long,  long  nights  an'  the  sleep  that 

he   lost, 
An*   the   way   he   ca'med   our   fear. 

Oh,  here's  to  the  Doc  that  stayed  by  us, 
We'd  ride  fer  miles  to  shake  his  hand, 

Fer  the  sake  o'  them  days,  oh,  them  early 

days, 
That  none  but  we  understand. 


[66] 


Ranch  and  Range 


TO  A  COWBOY  POET 

He  rode  a  bronk  he  called  Pegas', 

To    Homer's    some   related, 
A  hoss  with  wings  to  range  the  clouds, 

In    manner   plum*   elated. 

He  likewise  packed  a  instrument, 
He  called  "the  cheerful  lyre/' 

An'  from  the  same  he'd  rope  a  tune, 
An'  sing  his  heart's  desire. 

He  never  thought  o'  things  mundane, 
No  work  he  cared  to  foller, 

An'  actoolly  he  never  knew 
The  value  o'  a  doller. 

But  when  he  crossed  the  Great  Divide, 
An'  to  the  skies  went  wingin', 

We  found  we  missed  him  an'  the  songs 
That  he  was  allers  singin'. 

An'   tho'   we   cl'ar   fergot   the   place 
Where  we   the   cuss   had  planted, 

Fer  years  an'  years  them  songs  o'  his 
Our  hearts  have  sort  o'  ha'nted. 


[67] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


POST  MORTUM  POLITENESS 

A  cowpunch   once  shot  up  the  town, 

And   after   that   was    done, 
A  friend  informed  him  that  he'd  winged 

A  dudelet  on  the  run. 

"You  tell  the  tenderfoot,"  cried  he, 
With  large  tears  in  his  eyes, 

"If  I  have  killed  the  blamed  galoot, 
I  now  apologize/' 


[68] 


Ranch  and  Range 


JAWI1SP  JANE 

Jawin'  Jane   gives   me  a   pain, 
She's   old    Hank   Biglow's   wife, 

She's  there  an'  over  in  the  game 
Of    wordy,    mouthy    strife. 

We  names  her  "Jawin'  Jane"  an'  she 

Would   kill   us   if   she  knew, 
But  Hank  jes'  grins  an'  looks  so  much 

Jes'  like  a  Southdown  ewe. 

Seems  like  the  world  is  made  jes'  so, 
All  things  to  mate  jes'  right, 

Fer  if  I'd  Jane  I'd  sure  get  up 
An'  choke  her  in   the  night. 

But  Hank  jes'  grins  that  woolly  grin, 

The  worst  you  ever  saw, 
Whilst  that  there  female  works  an'  works 

Her  never-tirin'  jaw. 

Jawin'  Jane  gives  me  a  pain, 
She's   old   Hank   Biglow's   wife. 

She's  there  an'  over  in  the  game 
Of   wordy,    mouthy    strife. 


[69] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


A  COWBOY  ON  RELIGION 

The  preacher  man  sometimes  comes  out, 
An'  in  the  school   house  he   do  spout, 
'Bout  "fiery  furnace"   an'  "black  sin," 
An'  souls  he  wants  to  "save  an'  win;" 
But  somehow  I  don't  like  the  game 
He   spreads   in   manner   meek  an'   tame, 
Fer  I   has  thought  my  whole  life  long, 
I   pays   the  bill  if   I   do   wrong; 
It   may    be    years    an'    years    until, 
But  jes'  the  same  I  pays  the  bill. 

Now  that  the  bill  sure  must  be  paid, 
Be  blamed  if  I  am  much  afraid; 
An*  likewise  I  don't  see  that  prayer 
An'  standin'  up  with  pious  air, 
Can   do   away  with   that   there   bill, 
'Cause  'til  she's  paid  she  surely  will 
Stand    on   the   books   agin    the    cuss 
Who  had  the  fun  an'  raised  the  fuss; 
Fer  sayin',  "I  am  saved;"  don't  kill 
The  hard,  cold  fact,  you  owe  that  bill. 

I  know  I'm  ignerant  an'  rough, 
An',  speakin'  truthful,  somewhat  tough; 
But  jes'  the  same  this  fact  there  be, 
There's  none  to  blame  exceptin'  me; 

[70] 


Ranch  and  Range 


So  this  sure  puts  you  on  the  shelf: 
No  one  can  save  you  but  yourself. 
You  plays  the  game  your  own  sweet  way, 
Regardless  what  the  good  folks  say, 
An'   if  your   hand  you   fails   to   fill, 
Why,  you  jes'  smile  an'  pay  the  bill. 


[71] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE   PAPER   MAN 

(A    Visit  with   the   Handsome   and   Popular 
Editor  of  the  Lariet  Lyre) 

He  has  a  press  he  jerks  by  hand, 

An'   Fridays   he  will   take  his   stand, 

An'  let  a  kid  roll  on  the  ink 

To  grease  the  type,  an'  then  he'll  think 

It's  time  to  take  a  smoke,  by  jing! 

An'  then  he'll  stop  an'  leave  the  thing, 

An'  grab  a  corn-cob  from  somewhere, 

An*  with  his  feet  up  in  the  air, 

He'll  say,  "Well,  boys,  how's  stock  an' feed? 

A  little   snow  is  what  we  need — 

Much   sickness  out  your  way  these  times? 

I   hear   Miss  Jones   weds   Billy   Grimes, 

I  lets  their  write-up  front  page  take, 

They  sends  me  chunk  o'  weddin'  cake. 

An'  poor  old  Cribs  he  upped  an'  died — 

His    'bituary   bucked    an'    pied — 

But  then  I  sets  it  up  agin, 

A-speakin'  of  the  home  he'll  win, 

An'  all  the  virtoos  that  he  had, 

Fergettin'   nothin'   but   the   bad — 

You  wants  some  papers?    sure,  you  bet! 

Jes'  help  yourself,  they's  fresh  an'  wet — 

No,  takin'   money  is   a  bribe — 

Unless  you  riggers  to — subscribe — 

[72] 


Ranch  and  Range 


Oh,   many   thanks,    I    allers   do 
Take   honest   joy   in   seein'   you." 
An'  then  we  leaves  an'  looks  back  at 
The   paper  man   a-jerkin'   that 
Old  press,  an'  singin'  cl'ar  an'  high, 
"We'll  all  be  angels,  by  an'  by." 


[73] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


LEM   SCOBEY'S   OPINION 

Lem  Scobey  says  to  me  one  day: 
"I'm  feelin'  tired  that-o-way, 
About  this  wild  west  guff  I  reads, 
Them   eastern   papers   locoed   screeds. 
In  the  first  place  I'm  here  to   tell, 
Real  western   men  don't  go  an'  yell 
To  some  news-sharp  how  they  has  killed 
Whole  Injun  tribes  or  how  they's  spilled 
The   blood   of   forty   men    or    more, 
An'  that  their  reg'ler  feed  is  gore. 

"Real  western  men  don't  give  a  cuss 
Fer  paper  praise  nor  do  they  fuss 
An'  stand  around  a-lookin'  mad 
An*  hopin'  someone  thinks  'em  bad. 
Nor  do  they  gab  in   hot  air  free 
Long  yarns  o'  what  they  uster  be. 
The   truest   men,    the   kind   that   stay, 
Be    them   that   has   the   least    to    say; 
Such-like    are    kind    an'    to    the    end, 
You'll   find   them    stickin'   to   a   friend. 
The   papers    don't   ne'er   hear   o'   these, 
The  mouthy  kind   is   what  they   sees — 
The  kind  that  need   six  mules   an'  all 
To    simply    pack   around    their    gall. 

[74] 


Ranch  and  Range 


"Jes'   let  me   tell   you  of  a   man — 

None    beat   his    nerve,   none    ever    can — 

Won't  give  his  name,  'cause  he  would  kick; 

But   that   won't   stop   me   on   this   trick. 

Call  him  Dakota,  jes'  fer  fun, 

You'll    rope    the    idee    when    I'm    done: 

Dakota,    small    an'    sort    o'    sad, 

An'    seems    to    me   the   feller   had 

Girl-eyes    an'    freckles    an'    a    smile 

That   kept   you   thinkin'    all    the   while 

That  any  little   kid   might   tie 

To  him,  an'  that  he'd  rather  die, 

Afore   he'd   let   one   he'pless   know 

Of    pain    or    harm — you    bet,    that's    so. 

No    bad    man    'bout    Dakota,    tho', 

I    can't   jes'    say   he   was    so   slow 

In    any    sort    or    kind    of    fight, 

Except   his    lips    got    thin    an'    white, 

An'   after   it   was   done   he'd   say: 

'I'm    sorry,    boys/    an'    walk    away. 

An'    it's    a    fact    that    right    today, 

Dakota,    good    an'    kind    an'    gray, 

Don't  have   a   word   to   say   to   men, 

When    on   the   corner,    now   an'   then, 

Some  paper  man  hogties  him  fast, 

To   tell   the   world   about   his   past. 

"An'  that's  the  game,  real  western  men 
Be  the  same  now  as   they  was  then; 
Don't  wear  long  hair  nor  buckskin  things, 
Don't    like    the    bluff   that    allers    strings 
The    paper   ducks    an'   never's    stint 

[75] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


On  seein'  his  full  name  in  print. 
True    western    men,    the    kind    that    stay, 
Be   them    that    has    the    least   to    say; 
The  true  heart  sort  that  ne'er  discard 
Your   friendship   or   your   true   regard; 
The    kind    a    feller's    free    to    love — 
The   kind   the   world   hears   nothin'   of." 


[76] 


Ranch  and  Range 


BALLADE  OF  MISS  SUSAN  OTOOLE 

(Found  in  the  Waste  Basket  of  the  Lariet  Lyre 
— Author  Unknown) 

Miss  Susan  O'Toole  hated  men  with  a  hate 

Some  punchers  bear  water,  you  know; 
If  one  was  a-comin'  an'  she  seen  him  first, 

Right  back  to  her  ranch  she  would  go. 
She  talked  woman's  rights  an'  similar  stuff, 

With   all   o'   her   fem-i-nine   might, 
Per  as  a  gab-artist  Miss  Susan  took  all 

The   prizes   that   might   be   in    sight. 
She  tells  the  whole  range  o'  this  an'  o'  that, 
'Til    her    jaw-agitation    wore    holes    in    her 
hat — 

Fer    Susan    O'Toole 
Said   she   was   no   fool, 
Ner    cared    she   a    rap 
Fer   no   man   or  yap 
That    ever    wore    chaps, 
Said   Susan. 

She    said    there's    a    time    that    surely   will 

come, 

When  women  will  have  all  the  say, 
When  the  last  sinful  man  has  give  up  the 

scrap, 

An'  woman — sweet  woman — holds  sway. 
Then  one  fatal  day  a  freak  drifts  along — 
A  freak  with  a   string-halted  voice, 

[77] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


An'  head  cl'ar  bereft  o'  the  truck  known  as 

branes, 

An'  Susan  grabs  him  as  her  choice. 
Affection    long-smothered    jes'    breaks    the 

crust, 

An'  her  heart  is  all  his  to  keep  or  to  bust — 
Fer   Susan   O'Toole 
Was    hit    mighty    crool, 
An'  her  piller  she  wet 
With  some  tears,  you  can  bet, 
Fer  she  had  it  bad, 
Did    Susan. 

One  day  they  was  spliced  an'  she  treated 

him  like 

An'    angel   jes'    minus    the    wings; 
An'  waited  on  him  ev'ry  jump  in  the  road, 
An'  thinks  him  the  "sweetest  o'  things." 
Thus  Susan  O'Toole  made  Hen-i-ree  Jones 

The  very  best  sort  of  a  wife, 
She  supports  him,  loves  him,  an'  happy  as 

clams, 

They   follers   the   long   trail   o'   life. 
An'  Susan's  sweet  voice  never  once  spoke 
In  its  old-time  contempt  o'  the  sinful  men- 
folk. 

Fer    Susan    O'Toole 
Had   found   a  bright  jewel, 
A  masculine  peach 
Jes'  right  fer  her  reach, 
An'   she   gathers   him  in, 
Did    Susan. 

[78] 


Ranch  and  Range 


ADVICE    FROM   THE    RANGE 

If  you   don't   know   how    to    smile 

To  the  people  all  the  while; 

If   you    don't    know   how    to    hand 

Ev'ry    feller    in    the    land 

Jes'  a  little  bit  o'  guff, 

Kind    o'    complimentary    stuff, 

You'd 

Better 

Learn 

How. 

If  you  don't  know  how  to  do 
When  old  trubble's  hittin'  you; 
If  you  don't  know  how  to  take 
Ev'ry  single  keen  heartache, 
An*  jes'  down  it  an'  jes'  lope 
To  the  shinin'  camp  o'  hope, 

You'd 

Better 

Learn 

How. 

If  you  don't  know  all  these  things 
That    a    lifetime    surely    brings, 
All  the  tricks  an'  all  the  ways 
That'll   make   the  darkest  days 

[79] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Full  o'  sunshine,  full  o'  song, 
'Til   they   fairly    skip   along, 

You'd 

Better 

Learn 

How. 


[80] 


Ranch  and  Range 


WHEN  IT'S  GETTIN'  PLANTIN'  TIME 

Did  you   ever   feel   that  way, 

When    warm    weather's    comin'    on, 
An'  you  smell  the  green  things  growin' 

Thro'  the  dusk  an'  thro'  the  dawn? 
Jes'  a  sort  o'  stretchy  feelin', 

With  your  thoughts  all  out  o'  rhj'me, 
Jes'    a   lazy,    dazy   feelin', 

When    it's    gettin'    plantin'    time. 

When  it's  gettin'  plantin'  time, 

An'   the    grangers    sort    the    seed, 
An'  the  women  start  house  cleanin', 

An*  the   blackbird's   in   the   reed. 
Land-a-mighty!    hain't    you    Igzy! 

Why,  you're   scarcely  worth  a  dime, 
All    the    work    you    do    is    hardship 

When    it's    gettin'    plantin'    time. 

'Drather    go    an'    set    an'    lis'n 

To    the    curlews    callin'    there, 
'Drather  watch   the   sunbeams   dancin' 

On    the    gleamy,    glinty    air. 
'Drather   lay   back   sort   o'    languid, 

'Drather    do    most    anything 
'Sides    workin',    when    it's    gettin' 

Plantin'    time    along    in    spring, 


[81] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


SPRING 

(A  Poem  on  a  New  Subject  from  the  Lariet 
Lyre) 

Spring   is    here, 

And    the    brand-new   calf 

Doth    wobble    'round   with    mellow 

Laugh. 

The  chickens  cluck, 

And    the    glad,    young    bronco 

Snorting    there, 

In    all    his    mad    delight    doth    try 

To   kick   the 

Scroll    work 

Off 

The 

Sky, 


[82] 


Ranch  and  Range 


LET'S  QUIT  QUARRELIN'  FER 
AWHILE 

Let's   quit  quarrelin'   fer  awhile, 
In  this  ornry  kind  o'  style, 
Let's   quit  envy,  hate  an'  all, 
Let   the   light   o'   heaven   fall 
Into  hearts  that's  dark  an'  dim, 
Thinkin'    life's    a    mournful    hymn; 
Sing  a   song  brim   o'er   with  joy, 
Like  we   sang  as   when   a   boy. 
Let   us   smile    an'   let's   be   gay, 
Let's  quit  quarrelin'  fer  to-day. 

Let's    quit    quarrelin'    fer    awhile, 
Let's  shake  hands  an'  let  us  smile; 
Let's  not  think  a   single  thought 
That  we   really  hadn't  ought. 
Let  us  play  the  friendship  card, 
Let   us   have   a   kind   regard 
Fer    how    other    folkses    feel; 
Let    us    quit    this    envy    deal. 
Let's  jes'   live   an'   let's  be   gay, 
Let's    quit   quarrelin'   fer   to-day. 


[83] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


WHEN    A    MAN    HAS    MONEY 

Friends    a-smilin'    ev'rywhere, 
Weather    lookin'    mighty    fair; 
Skies    a    soft   an'    tender   blue, 
Birds  a-singin'  songs  to  you. 
"Hello   there/'   an'    "mornin'    Bill," 
How  their  eyes  with  gladness  fill, 
How  they  grab  your  hand  an'  shake, 
How  they  bid  you  come  an'  take 
Something  wet  an'  hot  with  them, 
Jes*   to   loosen   up   the   flem 
In  your  throat,  fer  'tis  so, 
Such  like  favors  count,  you  know, 
When   a   man   has   money. 

Don't  the  world  look  bright  an'  fine, 
In  her  gown   of   sun  an'   shine? 
Hain't  she  smilin'  sweet  an'  pert, 
Like  a   reg'ler   little   flirt? 
Don't  the  glad  hands  to  you  reach? 
Don't  they  holler,  "you're  a  peach?" 
Don't  luck  come  jes'  on  the  whirr, 
When   you   hain't   a-needin'   her? 
Don't  things  come,  oh,  don't  they,  say, 
Come  a-nmnin'   down   your  way? 
Don't   it   seem   an   easy   game, 
Pilin'   up    some   more   the    same, 
When    a   man   has    money? 

[84] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A    COWBOY    FATALIST 

Oh,   I   don't   care  if  it's   rain   or   shine, 

Or   whether   she's   ca'm   or   blows; 
An'  I  don't  think  'tis  fault  o'  mine 

If   it    don't   or   if   it   snows. 
Fer   I   don't  want  to   even  think 

Or    care    which    way    I'm    bound, 
But    jes'    keep    a-smilin'    an'    lettin'    things 
slide, 

An*    keep    on    a-driftin'    around. 

Oh,  I  don't  care  if  the  whole  works  set, 

Or   whether    they    moves    ahead; 
Or  what  we're  goin'   to  do   or  get 

When  we're  gone  fer  keeps  an'  dead. 
Fer   I    don't   want   to    even   think 

Or    care    which    way    I'm    bound, 
But    jes'    keep    a-smilin'    an'    lettin'    things 
slide, 

An'  keep  on  a-driftin'  around. 

Oh,   I   don't  care  what  other  folks   say, 

Or   what  in   me   they   sees; 
Fer  each  man's  free  to  think  his  way, 

An'   do   as   he   dern   please. 
An'  I  don't  want  to  even  think 

Or  care  which  way  I'm  bound, 
But    jes'    keep    a-smilin'    an'    lettin'    things 
slide, 

An*  keep  on  a-driftin'  around. 

[85] 


Cozvboy  Lyrics 


THE  OLD  COWMAN 

I'm  not  so  young  as   I   uster  be, 
I'm    somewhat    gray   an'   wrinkledy, 
An'  I  wear  my  hat — my  old  white  hat — 
On  the  back  o'  my  neck  on  a  roll  o'  fat. 
An'  I  don't  ride  much  like  I  uster,  tho', 
I'm  not  so  dog-goned  gumbo   slow 
When  it  comes  to  bronks,  but  yet  I'll  say, 
A  buggy  fer  mine  'most  any   day. 

But   my   heart   is    young,   oh,   my   heart   is 
young, 

An'  she  sings  the  songs  like  she  allers  sung: 
Dealin'   fair   an'   dealin'   square, 
An'    findin'    friendship    everywhere; 

An'  never  a  fear  does   she  let   slide, 

Fer  the  day  when  I  cross  the  Great  Divide. 

Old   pards  are   gone — no   use  to   care, 

They've  rode  the  trail   to   Overthere; 

But  I'll  see  'em  agin,  well,  I  should  shout! 

To   jes'    shake    hands    fer    all    get    out! 

I've  no  regrets  an'  that's  no  lie, 

A  white  man's  never  afeerd  to  die; 

Old  age  an'  death  has  got  to  be, 

An',  by  the  gods,  they  don't  scare  me! 


[86] 


Ranch  and  Range 


HOLOWAY 

Holoway,  that  is  his  name, 
Guess  he  hain't  much  known  to  fame, 
Lived  around  these  hills  a  few, 
Been    to    Californy,    too, 
Got  a  ranch  jes'  down  the  crick, 
An'  a  cabin  clean  an'  slick; 
Fer   an   old   batch,   Holoway 
'Sneater    than   a    pin,    they    say. 
But  that  hain't  a  mark  to  the  kindness   o' 

him  or  a  mark  to  what  he  can  do, 
If  you  happen  around  with   a  case   of  the 
blues    that's    eatin'    the    heart   out    o' 
you; 

Tis  then  that  he'll  up  an'  bust  you  kerbang 
a  slap  on  the  back  an'  he'll  say: 
"What's  the  use  o'  your  mopin',  you  might 
better   smile,   'cause   you  looks   a   lot 
sweeter  that  way." 

Holoway,  yes,  Holoway, 
Hair  an'  beard  a-turnin'  gray, 
But  his  heart  is  jes'  as  young 
As  when  all  his  boyhood  sung. 
Yes,  his  heart  is  jes'  as  true, 
Got  the  same  bright  hopin',  too, 
All  these  days  that  you  an'  me 
Fret  into  eternity. 

[87] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


But  that  hain't  his  style,  fer  he  allers  has 
said,  ''What's  the  use  fer  to  fuss  any- 
way? 

What's  past  is  sure  gone  an'  you  might  bet- 
ter live  fer  the  smiles  you  can  gather 
today;" 

An5  then  he  will  up  an'  he'll  bust  you  ker- 
bang  a  slap  on  the  back  an'  he'll  say : 

"What's  the  use  o'  your  mopin',  you  might 
better  smile,  'cause  you  looks  a  lot 
sweeter  that  way," 


[88] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A   LITTLE   AX  TO   GRIND 

(Pessimistic  Poem  from  the  Caustic  Pen  of  the 
Editor  of  the  Lariet  Lyre) 

The  world's  plum'  full   o'  people  who  nail 
your   hand   an'   smile, 

An'  greet  you  in  the  warmest  an'  the  glad- 
dest kind  o'  style; 

While  they  make  quick  calculations  on  your 
humble   little   pile, 

An'  lay  their  plans  to  grab  it  in  the  joyous 

afterwhile, 
'Cause  they  has  a  little  ax  to  grind. 

Politicians    an'    them    roosters    what    love 

official  pap, 
From  the  boss  down  to  the  cringin'  an'  the 

confidential  yap, 
Approach  you  an'  administer  your  back  a 

hearty  slap. 
An'  put    your  bump  o'  caution    in  a    sweet 

an'  gentle   nap, 
When  they  has  a  little  ax  to  grind. 

Women,  lov'ly  women,  fair  as  the  dawn  o' 

day, 
Be    oft    the    very    angels    what    make    the 

strongest  play; 

[89] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Fer  they  praise  your  worldly  wisdom  in  a 

sweet  an'  gentle  way, 
An'  you  thinks   you's  back  in   Eden   when 

she  springs  her  charmin'  say, 
When  she  has  a  little  ax  to  grind. 

'Most  ev'ry  day  some  sucker  gets  the  keen 

point  o'  the  gaff, 
An'   likewise   gets    the   meller   an'   the   gay 

equestrian  laff; 
One  half  o'  all  the  people  wants  to  work 

the  other  half, 
An'  taffy  is  o'  this  here  life  the  only,  only 

staff, 
When  you  has  a  little  ax  to  grind. 


[90] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A  WORD   FROM   SHORTY 

Says  Shorty  Smith:  "It  seems  some  strange 

That  Cupid  rides  Affection's  range, 

Expectin'  sure  to  make  a  hit 

Armed  with  a  Injun  buck  outfit. 

Fer  by  the  way  the  cards  are  laid, 

An'   alimony  now  is   played, 

I  wouldn't  think  the  god  could  beat  her 

Unless  he  packed  a  Colts'  repeater, 


[91] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


DANCE,  YOU  PUNCHERS,  DANCE 

Oh,  whoop  it  up  an'  let's  be  gay. 
It's  a  long  time  now  'til  break  o'  day; 
So  fer  a  good  time  get  a  hunch, 
An'  cut  your  girl  from  out  the  bunch — 
An'   say — 

You  may 

Start  them  fiddles  right  away, 
An'  Jiggin'  Finn 

With   his    'cor'din 
Will  do, the  rest,  so  all  join  in, 
An*  pound  the  floor  with  your  high-heeled 

boot, 

An'  swing  your  granger  girl  so  cute, 
An'  dance,  you  punchers,  dance. 

Oh,  lips  are  sweet  an'  eyes  are  bright, 
Tis  sparkin'  time  fer  all  tonight; 
So  lope  along  an'  do  your  best, 
An'  cut  right  in  an'  lead  the  rest. 
An'  say — 

You  may 

Start  them  fiddles  right  away, 
An'  Jiggin'  Finn 

With  his  'cor'din 
Will  do  the  rest,  so  all  join  in, 

[92] 


Ranch  and  Range 


An'    pound   the    floor    with   your   high-heeled 

boot, 

An'  swing  your  granger  girl  so  cute, 
An'  dance,  you  punchers,  dance. 

There's  drink  an'  fodder  fer  you-all, 
My  land-o'-goodness !  hear  that  call ! 
The  set's  a-formin' !    Cut  loose  now ! 
An'  show  them  bashful  fellers  how — 
An'  say — 

You  may 

Start   them  riddles   right   away, 
An'  Jiggin'  Finn 

With  his  'cor'din 
Will  do  the  rest,  so  all  join  in, 
An'    pound   the   floor   with   your   high-heeled 

boot, 

An'  swing  your  granger  girl  so  cute, 
An*  dance,  you  punchers,  dance, 


[93] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


DOC  PIERCE'S  WAY 

Speakin'  of  Doc  Pierce's  way, 

I've  often  heerd  that  old  duck  say 

He'd  rather  be  hisself  than  all 

The  millyunaires  that  he  could  call 

To  mind.    'Cause  money  made  or  stole  or  lent, 

Don't  never  bring  no  man  content. 

Doc  says  he'd  rather  be  a-settin'  back 
A-smokin'  in  his  Black  Hills  shack 
An'  visitin'  with  his  friends  than  be 
The  big  High  Squeeze  of  In-die-ee. 

"This  thing  of  cuttin'  so  much  ice, 

An'  bein'  proud,  stuck-up  an'  nice," 

Says  Doc,  "don't  get  no  game  with  me; 

I  simply  truly  want  to  be 

Myself  an'  face  the  music  to  the  end — 

An'  never  be  without  a  friend." 

Doc's  great  on  friendship,  that  I  know, 
He  laughs  at  every  joke  I  show 
To  him,  as  if  the  thing  I  told 
Was  not  so  dog-goned  stale  an'  old 
'Twould  make  the  spirit  of  sweet  mirth 
Go  chase  itself  from  off  the  earth. 

[94] 


Ranch  and  Range 


That's  why  I'm  proud  to  stand  an'  say, 
Doc's  long  on  friendship  that-o-way; 
Fer  friendship  him  will  allers  bring 
An'  make  him  suffer  anything. 

Doc  looks  at  folks  what  put  on  airs, 
An'  pass  out  frozen-featured  stares, 
With  such  contempt  he  jes'  can't  speak — 
Jes'  shoves  his  pipe  into  his  cheek, 
An'  one  eye  at  the  ceilin'  winks, 
An'  sort  o'  thinks — jes'  sort  o'  thinks. 

You  don't  know  Doc?  well,  Doc  don't  care, 
Altho'  you'd  be  most  welcome  there — 
Out  there  in  them  old  solemn  hills — 
But  Doc  don't  get  no  sudden  thrills 
On  meetin'  folks  a-tourin'  West, 
Doc  says  old  friends  are  allers  best. 

You  see,  it's  hard  to  understand 
Us  people  of  the  western  land; 
We've  been  out  there  so  dog-goned  long 
We  never  sing  our  friendship  song 
In  front  of  folks,,  like  Injuns  did, 
We  make  our  heart  camps  fire-hid. 

Doc  says  to  me  not  long  ago : 
"There's  jes'  some  things  I  seem  to  know, 
There's  not  much  to  this  worldly  game 
Of  trailin'  fortune  or  bright  fame. 

[95] 


Cozvboy  Lyrics 


I  want  a  pipe,  a  fireplace  an'  all 
My  real,  real  friends  in  easy  call; 
An'  then  the  bill  I  surely  fills, 
I'd  love  to  loaf  around  these  hills." 

An'  down  here  in  this  roarin'  town, 
With  trolleys  grindin'  up  an'  down, 
An'  people  walkin'  over  me — 
No  stampede's  loco  as  they  be — 
I  say — I  yell  with  all  my  might : 
Old  Doc  is  right — he's  jes'  dum  right  I 


[96] 


Ranch  and  Range 


A  LIGHT  JOKE 

Tho'  in  a  bunk  house  on  a  ranch, 

No  'lectric  lights  are  present, 
We  slaps  a  candle  in  a  can, 

An'  calls  it  in-can-des'ent. 
An'  if  you  jes'  must  know  the  rest, 

You  might  as  well  look  pleasant, 
An'  laff  like  blazes  when  we  names 

Our  light  a  tin-can-des'cnt 


[97] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  OLD  COWBOY'S  COMPLAINT 

I  stands  first  guard  an'  let  the  kids  sleep, 

They  sure  is  a  bunch  o'  logics, 
An'  with  my  beautiful  alto  voice, 

I  mesmerize  the  dogies. 

I  stands  last  guard  an'  lets  the  kids  sleep, 
Let  'em  rest,  the  blamed  free-lunchers ! 

They  rides  a  mile  on  a  rockin'  hoss, 
An'  thinks  they  is  cowpunchers. 

I  stands  first  guard  an'  I  stands  last  guard, 

An'  rolls  some  cirgarooties, 
An'  makes  to  myself  some  pure  remarks, 

'Bout  them  there  sleepin'  beauties. 

Oh,  it's  been  a  stretch  of  thirty  year, 
Since  first  I  roped  an'  threw  'em, 

An'   I'm  here  to   state   the   west's   plum'   out 
Of  punchers  like  I  knew  'em, 


[98] 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF 
LOVE 


Girl  of  the  brown  eyes,  the  clear  eyes,  the  dear 
eyes, 

What  would  you  do  for  me,  love. 

For  me,  love,  for  me,  love!. 
Pd  follow  you  the  long  trail  thro', 
My  fears  for  you,  my  tears  for  you, 

For  you,  love,  for  you,  love. 

Boy  of  my  dreams,  my  whole  dreams,  my  soul 
dreams, 

What  would  you  do  for  me,  love, 

For  me,  love,  for  me,  love? 
Fd  shelter  you  the  long  trail  thro', 
My  care  for  you,  my  share  for  you, 

For  you,  love,  for  you,  love. 


[101] 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LOVE 


THAT  THERE  GIRL 

It's  that  there  girl  'most  all  the  time, 
Per  workin'  I  hain't  worth  a  dime; 
An'  jes'  can't  turn  around  or  stir 
Without  some  foolish  thought  o'  her. 
Can  scarcely  sleep  or  eat  my  chuck — 
Dog-gone  the  luck!     I  guess  I'm  stuck! 


[103] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


SPEAKIN'  OF  HER  EYES 

Speakin'  of  her  eyes,  well,  they  makes  me 

Jes'  'bout  as  batty  as  can  be; 

An'  tho'  fer  sleep  I  surely  plays, 

I  stays  awake  an'  thro'  a  haze 

I  sees  the  baby  laugh  that  lies 

A-loafin'  'round  her  eyes — her  eyes. 

An'  then  I  walk  an'  smoke  an'  fret, 

It  hain't  no  use,  I  can't  ferget. 


[104] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


THEM  HEAP  BIG  THOUGHTS 

It  seems  to  me  some  passin'  strange, 
When  Love  rides  'cross  a  feller's  range, 
He  thinks  of  thoughts  a  wholesale  store, 
Such  thoughts  he  never  thought  before : 
Them  heap  big  thoughts,  as  Injuns  say, 
Of  life  an'  death  an'  music  gay, 
An'  flags  an'  crowds  an'  flashin'  things, 
An'  then  sometimes  he  backward  springs 
To  thoughts  o'  mountains  big  an'  high, 
Where  giants  set  an'  watch  the  sky 
At  sunset  grand  an'  great  an'  still, 
An'  all  the  world  seems  dreamin'  'til 
He  looks  around  to  hear  this  call : 
"You're  jes'  in  love,  my  boy,  that's  all." 


[105] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THAT  SCRUB 

'Twas  jes'  at  dark  on  Friday  last 

I  see  her  go  a-ridin'  past 

With  that  there  survey  outfit  scrub, 

That,  sickly-lookin'  four-eyed  dub 

What  Uncle  Sam  has  sent  out  here 

To  drift  around  an'  interfere 

With  other  folks'  affairs  an'  such — 

She  needn't  think  that  he's  so  much! 

He'll  keep  a-triflm'  'round,  he  will, 

Until  some  one  will  sort  o'  fill 

His  tender  hide  plum'  full  o'  lead — 

Some  folks  look  better  when  they's  dead. 


[106] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


SHE  WRITES  A  NOTE 

She  writes  a  note,  it  starts,  "Dear  Boy," 
That  surely  hobbles  me  with  joy; 
An*  then  she  says  she  wonders  why 
I  stays  away,  an'  then,  well,  I 
Jes'  saddles  up  an'  hits  the  trail 
An'  thanks  my  stars  fer  U.  S.  mail. 
An'  at  the  gate  she's  waitin';  say, 
She  takes  my  hat  an'  there  I  stay — 
That  survey  scrub  ?     He  wins  no  bets ! 
The  son-of-a-gun  I  plum'  fergets! 


[107] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


HER  HANDS 

As  to  her  hands,  say,  they's  sure  fine; 
One  time  she  let  them  lay  in  mine — 
All  soft  an'  clingy-like  they  were, 
Them  little  velvet  hands  o'  her; 
An'  once  she  set  my  heart  apace 
By  pressin'  one  agin  my  face. 
On  heaven -talk  I  hain't  much  flush, 
Nor  is  I  long  on  love-sick  slush, 
But  still  I'll  say  her  little  hand 
Can  pint  the  trail  to  Happy  Land. 

I  wish  sometimes  I'd  have  a  fight, 
An'  not  get  killed,  but  shot  up  right; 
Not  bad,  you  know,  jes'  middlin'  worse, 
Jes'  so  I'd  have  to  have  a  nurse. 
An'  then  she'd  come  an'  look  that  sad, 
'Twould  make  me  feel  all-fired  glad; 
An'  then  it  drifts  to  me  somehow, 
She'd  lay  her  cool  hand  on  my  brow, 
An'  let  me  right  here  rise  an'  tell, 
I'd  die  of  joy  or  I'd  get  well, 


[108] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


CONFIDENTIAL 

When  her  arms  drift  'round  my  neck, 

An'  her  head's  agin  my  breast, 
Seems  to  me  the  whole  creation 

Sort  o'  faints  or  takes  a  rest. 
When  she  camps  upon  my  knee, 

An'  her  cheek's  agin  my  face, 
Hain't  no  round-up  boss  of  glory 

But  what's  wishin'  fer  my  place. 
Speakin'  private,  when  she  kisses, 

With  a  little,  catchy  breath, 
I  jes'  die — an'  blamed  glad  of  it — 

One  sweet,  temporary  death, 


[109] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


TO  DANCE  WITH  HER 

To  dance  with  her  rounds-up  such  bliss, 

I  can't  rope  words  to  half  explain; 
It's  so  blamed  sweet  it  seems  to  be 

A  second  cousin  to  a  pain. 
She  drifts  an'  leans  agin  my  arm — 

Sweetheart  an'  dreams  an'  music  fine — 
If  anything  is  better,  say ! 

I'd  choke  with  joy  if  it  was  mine. 


[110] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


SPEAKIN'  OF  ARMS 

I  uster  think  that  arms  was  made 
To  jerk  a  bronk  or  throw  a  rope; 

But  now  I  knows  such  talk  is  what 
Them  editors  ear-mark  as  dope. 

It's  funny,  but  it  seems  these  arms, 
Tho'  long,  don't  over-reach  a  bit, 

An*  tho'  she'd  never  tried  'em  on, 
I  jes'  be  cussed  if  they  don't  fit. 

An'  since  I've  met  her  things  has  changed, 
These  arms  won't  stand  fer  such  abuse 

As  fightin'  bronks  or  ras'lin'  calves, 
B 'cause  they's  got  a  sweeter  use. 

An'  all  I  has  to  say  is  this : 

All  future  toil  I  surely  shirk, 
Since  fer  these  arms  I've  better  use 

Than  mere  degradin'  common  work. 


[111] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  TRYST 

I've  ridden  since  the  day  thro  wed  back 

The  trailers  of  the  night, 
An'  what  fer,  shall  I  tell  you, 

In  a  stampede  o'  delight? 
To  wait  out  by  the  cottonwoods, 

An'  dove -call  softly  to 
A  girl  I  know  will  answer: 

"I'm  a-comin',  boy,  to  you." 

'Twas  no  time  to  spare  my  bronco; 

His  breathin'  spells  were  brief; 
He's  white  with  foam  an'  shakin' 

Like  the  Chinook  shakes  the  leaf. 
Fer  I've  splashed  thro'  muddy  rivers, 

An'  loped  across  divides, 
An'  ridden  where  no  puncher 

In  his  reason  ever  rides. 

Thro'  wallers  caked  with  gumbo, 

The  buffalo  once  knew; 
Thro'  water  holes  an'  washouts, 

An'  a-boggin'  in  the  slew. 
O'er  alkali  an'  sage  brush  flats 

I  cut  the  whistlin'  breeze, 
An'  come  straight  as  the  eagle 

When  his  lady  bird's  to  please. 

[112] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


I'm  a-watchin'  an'  I'm  waitin' 

With  heart  as  light  as  air, 
As  happy  as  they  make  'em, 

Either  here  or  anywhere. 
Jes'  to  listen  fer  her  footfall, 

An'  hear  her  sweet  voice  thro' 
The  prairie  silence  murmur, 

"I'm  a-comin',  boy,  to  you." 


[113] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


JES'  A-FOOLIN' 

She  says  to  me,  "I  wish  you  would 

Jes'  quit  all  time  a-teasin'  me, 
From  morn  'til  night  it  seems  that  you 

Won't  fer  a  minit  let  me  be. 
Go  'way  now,  feller,  let  me  'lone, 

I  never  liked  you  much  nohow;" 
But  say,  she  laffs  when  she  says  that — 

She's  jes'  a-foolin',  I'll  allow. 

I  goes  to  see  her  Sunday  night ; 

She  allers  says  she  doesn't  care 
If  I  don't  come,  but  why  has  she 

Them  bran '-new  ribbins  in  her  hair? 
An'  why's  she  got  her  best  dress  on? 

Jes'  tell  me  that  an*  tell  me  now; 
But  still  she  claims  she  doesn't  care — 

Still  jes1  a-foolin',  I'll  allow. 

T'other  night  I  tells  her  straight 

I  loves  her,  an'  you  ought  to  see 
That  little  flirt  jes'  tip-toe  up 

An'  give  the  sweetest  kiss  to  me — 
Ah-m-m-m !  'twas  sweet,  but  still  she  says 

She  doesn't  like  me  much  nohow, 
An'  then  she'll  laff  an*  squeeze  my  hand — 

Still  jes'  a-foolin',  I'll  allow. 


[114] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


REAL  AFFECTION 

If  I  could  say  the  words  I  think, 

My  tongue  with  overwork  would  bust; 
I'd  make  old  Shakespeare  rise  an'  say: 

"What  varlot  now  disturbs  my  dust!" 
If  I  would  do  the  things  which  I 

Am  simply  achin'  to  perform, 
I'd  rope  the  lightnin'  an'  I'd  jerk 

The  terror  from  the  blindin'  storm. 

I'd  use  a  comet  fer  a  bronk, 

An'  ride  him  stuck-up  like  an'  proud; 
My  spurs  would  be  a  pair  of  stars, 

My  blanket  jes'  a  fleecy  cloud. 
I'd  roundup  all  the  planets  an' 

I'd  do  it  sudden,  sure  an'  soon, 
An'  then  I'd  set  back  ca'm  an'  wratch 

Them  mill  around  the  helpless  moon. 

I'd  do  all  this  an'  maybe  more, 

Pervidin'  that  I  thought  it  would 
To  this  here  busted  heart  of  mine 

Do  any  sort  of  passin'  good. 
I'd  do  it  all  an'  take  a  chance 

To  hold  the  trail  thro'  Afterwhile, 
If  she  would  throw  me  jes'  one  word 

An'  tie  it  up  with  one  sweet  smile. 


[115] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


A  COWBOY'S  RESOLUTION 

I  holds  a  tight  rope  on  conviction, 

Determination's  ever  been  my  style, 
An'  to  tie  an*  brand  a  resolution, 

'Most  any  day  I'd  run  a  dozen  mile. 
I  am  that  set  in  my  opinion, 

A  mule  is  like  a  rabbit  a-side  me, 
There  hain't  no  use  to  try  persuasion, 

Fer  what  I  say  has  simply  got  to  be. 

There  hain't  no  livin',  breathin'  woman 

Can  make  me-jump  or  hang  upon  her  word; 
No  skirt  what's  flirty  or  uncertain 

Can  ever  hope  to  cut  me  out  the  herd. 
I've  said  she'd  have  to  quit  her  triflin', 

An'  'til  she  did  no  pictured  olive  branch — 
She  writes  me  notes  on  foolscap  paper — 

Would  make  me  ever  even  cross  her  ranch. 

Of  course  on  Sunday  nothin's  doin', 

An'  really  I've  some  business  with  her  dad, 
So  I'll  happen  in  jes'  fer  to  see  him — 

(I  wonder  if  she  is  a-feelin'  sad?) 
I  holds  a  tight  rope  on  conviction, 

Determination's  ever  been  my  style, 
An'  to  tie  an'  brand  a  resolution, 

'Most  any  day  I'd  run  a  dozen  mile, 


[116] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


BASHFULNESS 

Oh,  say,  I'd  like  to  tell  her 

That  I  love  her  like  the  breeze 
Loves  the  leaves,  or  like  the  sunshine 

Loves  the  whisp'rin'  cotton  trees; 
Like  the  water  loves  the  pebbles, 

Singin'  soft  an'  singin'  low, 
But  when  I  starts  to  tell  her — 

I  jes' 

Don't  know. 

Oh,  say,  I'd  like  to  tell  her 

That  I  love  her  like  the  smile 
Loves  her  face,  or  like  the  dimples 

Love  her  sweet  mouth  all  the  while ; 
That  I  love  an'  love  an'  love  her 

Better  than  my  life,  but  tho' 
When  I  starts  out  to  tell  her — 

I  jes' 

Don't  know, 


[117] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


TRAIL  SONG 

Little  girl,  back  in  the  town, 

Be  you  a-lovin'  me? 
Little  girl,  back  in  the  town, 

Be  you  a-lovin'  me? 

Uster  think  the  dawns  was  fine, 
With  their  colors  all  a-shine, 
'Til  I  seen  your  eyes,  Lu-lee, 
Smilin',  laffin'  back  at  me. 

Uster  think  the  lilies  tall, 
Of  all  flowers  passed  'em  all, 
'Til  I  seen  you  standin'  there 
With  the  sunshine  on  your  hair. 

Uster  to  dream  o'  that  Great  Camp, 
When  I'd  watch  the  heaven's  lamp 
Light  the  whole  wide  range  o'  blue; 
Now  I'm  dreamin'  jes'  o'  you. 

Little  girl,  back  in  the  town, 

Be  you  a-lovin'  me? 
Little  girl,  back  in  the  town, 

Be  you  a-lovin'  me? 


[118] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


AN'  A  TWO-STEP'S   WHAT  THEY  PLAY 

A  little  queen  in  calico, 

Her  smiles — them  killin'  smiles — 
Be  jes'  some  o'  a  thousand 

Of  her  wicked  ways  an'  wiles; 
An'  she's  the  smoothest  dancer 

'Most  anywhere  you'll  see, 
An'  you  ought  to  see  her  two-step, 

La-de-da,  along  with  me. 

Oh,  she's  light  as  any  feather, 

The  music's  simply  fine, 
An'  I  jes'  get  plum'  loco 

When  her  face  is  close  to  mine. 
Fer  my  heart  is  thinkin'  something 

My  lips  don't  dast  to  say, 
When  she  leans  agin  my  shoulder 

An'  a  two-step's  what  they  play. 

I  could  dance  with  her  ferever, 

Wisht  we  never 'd  get  thro', 
'Cause  Time  jes'  takes  a  lay-off, 

An'  reason  quits  work,  too. 
Seems  ev'rything  has  ended, 

Fer  a  spell  f ergot  to  be, 
When  they  plays  a  two-step  sweetly 

An'  she  drifts  away  with  me. 


[119] 


Coivboy  Lyrics 


PARTIALITY 

You  can  sing  about  the  glory 

Of  the  summer  sunset  skies, 
But  I  will  keep  a-hummin' 

'Bout  the  glory  of  her  eyes. 
You  can  sing  about  the  roses, 

But  roses  can't  compare 
To  this  little  granger  maiden 

With  some  ribbin  in  her  hair. 

You  can  sing  about  the  lilies, 

Jes'  as  pure  as  purest  snow, 
But  I'll  jes'  keep  a-hummin' 

'Bout  a  fairer  flower,  tho'; 
A  purer,  sweeter  flower 

Than  the  lily  bendin'  there, 
Jes'  a  little  granger  maiden 

With  some  ribbin  in  her  hair. 

All  you  poets  sing  o'  beauty 

In  the  flowers,  skies  an'  streams, 
But  I'll  jes'  keep  a-hummin' 

'Bout  one  girlie  in  my  dreams; 
'Cause  I  think  my  subjeck's  sweeter 

Think  I  sing  a  sweeter  air, 
'Cause  it's  all  about  a  maiden 

With  some  ribbin  in  her  hair. 


[120] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  RANGE 

She's   been   out   here   a-teachin'   this  winter 

now  that's  past, 
An'  I  hears  that  she's  a-tellin'  that  it's  jes' 

about  her  last — 
That  she's  goin'  to  quit  the  schoolroom  an' 

goin'  home  to  stay — 
An'  somehow  I'm  jes'  hatin'  fer  to  see  her  go 

away. 
Fer  us  fellers  think    that  schoolmarm    is  an 

angel;  yes,  we  do — 
A  little  blue-eyed  angel,  yet  a  woman  thro' 

an'  thro'; 
An'  she  treats  us  all  so  kindly,  jes'  the  same 

'most  ev'ry  day, 
That  somehow  I'm  jes'  hatin'  fer  to  see  her 

go  away. 
She  hain't  never  give  me  reasons  fer  to  think 

I'd  have  a  show 
To  win  her,  but  I'm  honest  when  I  say  I  like 

her  so 
That  I  dread  her  time  fer  goin',  count  ev'ry 

passin'  day, 
'Cause  I'm  hatin',  jes'  a-hatin',  fer  to  see  her 

go  away. 
Well,  her  term  is  'bout  completed  an',  say, 

I  don't  think  I 
Have  got  the  nerve  to  greet  her  fer  to  say  a 

last  goodby; 

[121] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Seems  so  tough!     Oh,  well,  I'm  feelin',  call 

it  heartsick,  if  you  may — 
'Cause  I'm  hatin',  jes'  a  hatin',  fer  to  see  her 

go  away. 

LATER 

Oh,  say,  I'm  'bout  as  happy  as  a  feller  wants 

to  be; 
Went  to  see  her  an',  by  glory,  she  jes'  upped 

an'  cried — you  see ! 
An*  right  there  I  had  to  say  it,  what  so  long 

I've  feerd  to  say, 
An'   now  we've  gone  an'   fixed  it  so  she'll 

never  go  away. 


[122] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


AN  ODE  TO  THE  SLOW  HORSE 

Oh,  now  that  sleyin'  time  is  here  an'  weather 

is  jes'  boss, 
I  likes  to  take  her  drivin'  with  the  tamest 

kind  o'  hoss. 
I   wants   no   prancin'   bronco   that   makes   a 

sudden  dive, 

An'  r'ars  an'  t'ars  hisself  in  two, 
But  one 

That  she 
Can  drive. 

I  wants  a  bronk  what  knows  his  biz  an'  minds 

it  to  the  chalk; 
I  wants  a  bronk  can  pass  the  rest,  yet  slow 

down  to  a  walk 
When    I   has   got   my   arms   engaged,    while 

hearts  from  bustin'  strive; 
I  wants  a  bronk,  that  kind  o'  bronk, 
That  kind 

That  she 
Can  drive. 

When  sparkin'  nights  an'  sleyin'  nights  an' 

moonlight  nights  are  here, 
An'  she  an'  I  are  tryin'  fer  to  snuggle  close 

an'  near, 

[123] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


I  wants  a  bronk  what  pokes  along  an'  lets 

our  hearts  revive 

On  Love's  own  joy  behind  a  bronk, 
A  bronk 
That  she 
Can  drive. 


[124] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


TRUE  LOVE 

Oh,  true  love  don't  ne'er  stampede  at  what 

folks  think  or  say, 

An'  ridicule  jes'  simply  spurs  him  on; 
You  can  pitch  an'  r'ar  an'  jolt,  but  when  once 

he  gets  a  holt, 
You  might  as  well  admit  that  you  is  gone. 

I'm  free  to  mention  that  she's  a  lady  workin' 

at 

The  very  best  hash  foundry  in  the  town; 
I'm  here  to  likewise  say  that  fer  sweet  an' 

winnin'   way, 

The  best  of  them  can't  hope  to  call  her 
down. 

There's  the  "400"  here  what  sniffle  some  an' 

sneer, 
An'   think  ace  high  above  her  they  stand 

scored, 

'Cause  she's  packin'  Irish  stew  to  a  famine- 
stricken  crew 
Or  shootin'  vulgar  biscuits  'cross  a  board. 

When  roundup's  thro'  an'  done,  I  rides  back 

here  on  the  run — 

She  waits  on  one  star  boarder  after  that; 
I'm  certain  that-o-way  an'  I  stakes  my  life 

she '11  say: 
"Jes'  wait  until  I  gets  my  Sunday  hat," 

[125] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


What's  that?     You  seem  to   scout   a   little 

cloud  o'  doubt, 

An'  figgers  that  perhaps  she'll  pass  me  by; 
But  it's  ignerance  makes  you  take  that  pes- 

simistick  view — 

Don't  she  allers  give  me  SECONDS  on  the 
pie? 


[126J 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


TIME'S  HEAVY  HAND 

She  was  jes'   a  little  granger  an'  her  folks 

lived  on  Elk  crick, 
Jes'  a  little  dark-eyed  granger,  but  she  allers 

drest  that  slick 
You'd  think  she'd  caught  the  fashion  from 

the  ladies  o'  the  town, 
'Specially  when  buggy-ridin'  in  her  Sunday- 

meetin'  gown. 

Uster  take  her  'way  out  drivin'  on  a  Sunday, 

don't  you  know, 
But  I'd  let  her  do  the  drivin',  fer  I  liked  it 

better  so; 
An'  then  my  arm  would  circle — huh,  she'd 

pertend  to  frown — 
The   place   what   was   the    smallest    in    her 

Sunday-meetin'  gown. 

Starlight,  yes,  an'  prairies  dreamin',  cotton- 
woods  a-sighin'  there, 

An'  the  wind  a  sort  o'  triflin'  an'  a-foolin'  with 
her  hair; 

An*  a  ribbin  on  my  shoulder  or  a  strayin' 
curl  o'  brown, 

An'  her  heart  a-beatin'  gently  'gin  her  Sunday- 
meetin'  gown. 

[127] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Uster  kiss  her — huh,  well,  sort  o' — when  the 

moon  got  back  a  cloud, 
An'  she'd  pout  her  lips  pertendin'  she  was 

mad  an'  then  aloud 
She'd  laff  an'  fix  her  ribbins,  fer  at  times  such 

things  come  down 
When  a  girl  goes  buggy-ridin'  in  her  Sunday- 

meetin'  gown. 

Goodness   my !  but  time's  skeedaddled;   jes' 

a-driftin'  that-p-way, 
I'm  bald-headed — gettin'  worser   ev'ry  single 

passin'   day; 
An*  mother,  oh,  well,  mother  busts  the  scales 

up  in  the  town, 
An'   she's    made    herself   a   necktie   of    that 

Sunday-meetin'  gown 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


PLATO  DISPUTED 

When  two  folks  love  each  other  it  hain't  no 

earthly  use 
Per  hide-bound   criticism  to  hand  out  cold 

abuse, 
Fer  nature  has  'em  hobbled,  that's  what,  my 

turtle  dove, 
'Cause  there's  no  such  place  as  a  Half-way 

House 

Upon  the  Trail  of  Love. 

Lady-bird,  I  wants  to  tell  you,  tell  you  glad 

an'  free, 
That  old   duck  named  Plato  was  wrong  as 

wrong  can  be; 
As  sure  as  there's  a  roundup  on  the  great 

range  above, 

There's  no  such  place  as  a  Half-way  House 
Upon  the  Trail  of  Love. 

You  ride  the  trail  to  the  finish,  go  lopin'  right 

along, 
An'  never  stop  to  question  if  it  be  right  or 

wrong; 
You  spurs  your  bronco  forward  an'  backward 

reason  shove, 
'Cause  there's  no  such  place  as  a  Half-way 

House 

Upon  the  Trail  of  Love. 

[129] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


WHEN  SHE  GOES  TO  GET  THE  MAIL 

She  hain't  got  any  dimunds  nor  a  rustlin'  lot 

o'  silk, 
Never  uses  them  cosmetics,  never  bathes  her 

face  in  milk; 
But  she's  jes'  a  little  chicken  livin'  out  there 

by  the  trail, 

That  a  feller  meets  a  Sunday  when  she  goes 
to  get  the  mail. 

When  she  goes  to  get  the  mail 
An'  the  sunset's  gettin'  pale, 
An'  the  grass  is  like  a  carpet 
'Long  the  old  Pactola  trail. 

Freckles,  yes,  but  lips  of  honey;  nose  turns 

up  a  bit,  I  guess, 
An*  there's  jes'  a  scad  o'  patches  in  her  little 

homely  dress; 
But   I'd  rather,   rather  have  her  than  most 

others  that  I  know, 

B'cause,  well,  honest    Injun,    jes'   b'cause   I 
love  her  so. 

When  she  goes  to  get  the  mail, 
Allers  meet  her  without  fail, 
Jes'  to  ride  home  in  the  twilight 
On   the  old   Pactola  trail. 

[130] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


Left  her  one  night  lookin'  back  with  the  tear- 
shine  in  her  eyes, 
An'  her  voice  was  sort  o'  trembly  like  most 

women's  when  they  cries; 
An'  I've  ranged  the  dreary  country  from  the 

start  to  ev'ry where, 

But  somehow  I'm  allers  thinkin'  that  I  left 
my  heart  back  there. 

When  she  goes  to  get  the  mail, 
Girl,  I'll  never,  never  fail 
Fer  to  love  an'  long  to  see  you 
On  the  old  Pactola  trail. 


[1311 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  DESIRE 

Lem  Scobey,  of  the  Flying  V, 
Tells  out  the  tale  one  night  to  me, 
Of  Sheriff  Ben,  the  lad  an'  her, 
An'  the  Ralton  gang  of  Sinneber. 

Said  Scobey,  gazing  at  the  fire, 
"We  names  her  Princess  of  Desire, 
B 'cause  we  figgers  some  that  she 
Was  'bout  as  perfect  as  they  be; 
An',  bein'  so,  'twas  certain  she 
Was  member  o'  the  royalty 
In  that  there  state  o'  Sweet  Desire, 
Where  Love  is  king  an'  no  one  higher. 

"She  comes  to  camp  one  ba'my  day, 

An'  a  pale-like  lad  hung  that-o-way 

Along  her  trail,  you'd  think  she  had 

A  mortgage  on  that  self -same  lad. 

That  boy  jes'  idolized  her,  too, 

'Cause  'fore  he  come  he'd  jes'  pulled  thro' 

A  fierce   old  bleedin'  at  the  lungs — 

'Most  thought  he'd  clim'  the  Golden  Rungs. 

Then  she  jes'  packs  him,  kit  an'  all, 

An'  comes  to  Lariet  that  fall. 

He  loves  her  strong,  the  boy  sure  did — 

An'  we  o'  such-like  was  not  rid — 

Not  brother  love  but  gen-u-wine 

Old  'Achin'  Heart'  an'  'Ever  Thine/ 

[132] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


"Her  folks  was  dead  an'  she  had  come 
To  dabble  'round  in  cattle  some, 
An'  'side  from  lookin'  after  wealth 
Was  standin'  guard  o'er  that  kid's  health. 

"She  uster  set  there  on  the  step 
O'  the  hotel,  whilst  others  slept, 
An'  softly  talk  to  them  what  staid 
An'  hung  around  her  half -afraid, 
Like  moths  all  singed  with  candle-flame 
What  still  set  in  an'  play  the  game. 
An*  then  she'd  say  to  Brother  Jim 
To  get  her  wraps,  an'  then  the  slim 
Kid  would  burn  the  trail  so  rabbit -fast 
You'd  think  he  thought  it  was  the  last 
Sure  chance  to  win  some  sweet  smiles  fer 
A-hangin*  on  the  word  o'  her. 

"With  men,  her  lov'ly  face  an'  form 
Would  start  a  reg'ler  blindin'  storm 
Of  feelin' — that  which  chokes  a  man — 
I  say,  old  pard,  soft  ringers  can 
Bind  more  than  chains  or  bars  or  bolts, 
Or  any  kind  o'  man-made  holts. 

"She  uster  make  me  sort  o'  think 

Of  tiger  lilies  on  the  brink 

Of  some  cool  stream,  where  fairies  played, 

Or  little  children  laffin'  strayed. 

An'  then  agin  it  seemed  to  me 

Her  eyes  helt  all  the  mystery 

That  this  old  world  has  ever  known — 

[133] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Jes'  like  you  feel  when  all  alone 

Out  on  the  range  at  dead  o'  night, 

When  spirits  whirl  in  locoed  flight, 

An'  all  is  still  an'  shadders  crawl, 

An'  things  grow  grand  an'  great  an'  tall; 

An'  in  the  dark  your  bare  soul  lies, 

An'  God  jes'  reads  it  with  his  eyes. 

To  see  her  was  to  sure  release 

Your  everlastin'  holt  on  peace ; 

To  hear  her  voice  meant  Love  to  spring 

Up  in  your  heart  a  restless  thing; 

An'  in  your  dreams  she'd  smile  an'  you 

Would  give  your  life  if  it  was  true. 

"Of  course,  we  all  gets  dreamin'  some — 
To  'most  all  men  such  dreams  will  come — 
An'  now  I  hain't  ashamed  to  say 
The  Princess  smiled  my  heart  away. 
But  one  night  I  jes'  rights  it  out, 
An'  gets  my  senses  back — about. 
I  ?     Why,  matin'  with  a  shinin'  star, 
I  stands  more  chance  by  ten  times  far. 
An'  so  I  plays  unto  the  end 
With  her  a  plain,  outspoken  friend; 
But  'twas  a  lie  that  hurt  like  sin, 
But  still  Love's  great  if  you  don't  win. 

"But  Sheriff  Ben  was  hopeless  hit, 
An'  oftentimes  he  uster  sit 
With  her  o'  moonlight  nights,  an'  she 
Would  talk  to  him,  an'  he,  well,  he 
Would  jes'  grow  pale  with  pure  delight — 

[134] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


It  was  a  cinch  he  had  it  right — 

An'  scarcely  say  a  word  or  speak, 

But  looks  into  her  eyes  as  meek 

As  any  child.     Yet  this  here  Ben 

Was  a  rip-snorter  out  with  men. 

He  had  gray  eyes  an'  when  he  spoke 

'Twas  gener'ly  from  out  the  smoke 

Of  his  old  six-guns;  when  he  turned 

Them  loose,  then  gray  eyes  burned 

An'  got  like  little  pints  o'  steel, 

An'  no  man  cared  their  glance  to  feel. 

Big  chest,  thin  flanks  an'  quickness  that 

Was  like  a  high-strung  mountain  cat — 

Yet  with  the  Princess  he  was  like 

A  little  child,  an'  oft  we'd  pike 

To  Big  Pete's  Place  an'  leave  Ben  there, 

A-courtin*  of  his  lady  fair. 

"Don't  know  jes'  how  it  happened  then, 
But  seems  she  was  a-stringin'  Ben — 
Jes'  playin'  him  as  fishers  play 
A  fish  they  know  can't  get  away; 
Jes'  passin'  time  away  fer  fun 
With  Ben's  true  heart  all  cinched  an'  won. 
Of  course,  us  fellers  see  it  hard, 
But  dassent  lend  a  helpin'  card; 
Fer  well  we  knows  that  Ben  would  drag 
His  bunch  o'  guns  an'  surely  bag 
The  gent  what  spoke  a  word  o'  her, 
Or  jingled  e'en  a  warnful  spur 
In  front  the  Bronk  o'  Love  persuiri' 
The  reckless  trail  to  lastin'  ruin. 
[135] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


"You  'members  when  the  Raltons  gay 
Holds  up  the  mail  one  late  fall  day 
To  grab  that  gold  fer  eastern  lands 
Into  their  hungry,  lovin'  hands? 
Then  Ben  jes'  saddles  up  an'  rode 
Up  front  the  Princessus'  abode. 
She  laffed  an'  wished  him  scads  o'  luck, 
An'  her  white  fingers  at  him  shuck, 
An'  said,    'Tomorrow  night,  a  week, 
Bring  me  the  Raltons,  Mister  Meek/ 
Poor  Ben,  with  heart  all  strung  up  fine, 
Chokes  back  Love's  words  an'  ties  a  line 
Around  his  gauntlet,  mindless-like, 
Then  says,  'Goodby,  I  takes  a  hike; 
Alone  I  brings  the  Raltons  in; 
I  stay  out  there — or  else  I  win ; 
I  takes  my  pris'ners  'lone,'  he  said, 
'An'  if  I  can't — well,  some  one's  dead.' 
But  she  jes'  laffs  an'  leaves  Ben  there, 
As  if  she  did  not  have  a  care 
If  Death  fer  him  some  suddin  knocks — 
Say,  woman's  sure  a  paradocks. 

"Not  that  her  tears  would  helt  him  back 
From  off  o'  Duty's  shinin'  track, 
But  had  she  flashed  Love's  sign  to  Ben, 
He'd  never'd  been  so  reckless  then. 
He'd  took  us  fellers  'long  an'  we 
Would  make  short  work  o'  hold-ups  three ; 
But  man's  fool  pride  an'  woman's  way 
Let  Death  play  winner  on  that  day, 

[136] 


On  the  frail  of  Love 


"We  knows  Ben's  style  an'  knows  he  would 
Make  ev'ry  word  he  says  stand  good, 
An',  knowin'  there  was  three  hard  men 
To  one,  we  ups  an'  f oilers  Ben. 
By  layin'  low  an'  hangin'  back 
An*  trailin'  up  his  bronco's  track — 
Which  then  at  times  grows  mighty  dim — 
We  'lows  to  keep  in  reach  o'  him. 
Fer  if  he'd  sight  us,  sure,  he'd  come 
An'  turn  us  spraddlin'  back  fer  home. 
'I  takes  my  prisoners  'lone,'  he  said, 
'An'  when  I  can't — well,  some  one's  dead.' 

"The  next  day  out  we  slips  up  to 
Three  trails,  an'  one  a-windin'  thro' 
We  spots  as  Ben's,  an'  Billy  Bawn 
Locates  Ben's  boots,  the  spurs  are  on, 
An*  in  some  trees  we  starts  his  hoss — 
The  painted  one  he  names  'Old  Boss' — 
Half-dead  fer  water,  then  beyun' 
We  sees  where  he'd  the  fight  begun. 

"He  gets  two  men  the  first  thing  done, 
An'  then  the  third  one  jerks  his  gun 
An'  let's  Ben  have  it  in  the  chest, 
An'  Ben  comes  back  his  very  best — 
An'  there  the  four  o'  'em  lay  still, 
An'  o'  that  sight  I  gets  my  fill, 
An'  goes  away  fer  quite  a  spell, 
Queer  feelin'  that,  I'm  here  to  tell. 


[137] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


"You  see,  Ben'd  slipped  up  quiet-like, 
An'  'fore  they  could  much  think  to  strike, 
He  calls   "handsup,"  but  they  don't  heed, 
So  two  o'  them  get  what  they  need, 
An'  then  what's  left  winds  up  the  game — 
A  quick,  clean  fight  it  was  the  same. 

"Afore  he  dies  Ben  writes  three  words, 
A  pencil  scratch,  fer  when  Death  herds 
A  man  he  don't  write  fancy,  tho' 
'Twas  plain  enuff  fer  her  to  know. 
'I  love  her,'  them's  the  words  he  wrote; 
'I  love  her,'  was  his  dyin'  note. 

"An'  so  we  ropes  him  on  his  hoss — 
The  painted  one  he  names  'Old  Boss/ 
An'  when  the  sun  was  goin'  down, 
We  brings  the  sheriff  into  town. 

"I  finds  her  on  the  hotel  step, 
An'  'round  her  great,  queer  shadders  crept; 
Her  face  shone  white,  jes'  like  two  stars 
Was  her  dear  eyes — an'  then  the  bars 
Of  rough,  hard  talk  I  jes'  let  down, 
An'  says,  'We  brings  him  into  town; 
He's  dead,  an'  little  does  you  care 
Of  how  or  what  or  when  or  where !' 

"She  says  no  word,  jes'  goes  stone-blind, 
An'  stumblin',  tries  my  hand  to  find, 
An'  when  I  tells  her  what  Ben  wrote, 
She  t'ars  a  cry  from  out  her  throat — 

[138] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


An'  then  come  tears — such  tears — such  tears, 
They  made  me  think  I  had  the  Queers; 
An'  then  I  goes  away  to  hide 
My  own,  own  love  fer  which  I'd  lied. 

"An*  that  same  night  the  Princess  cried 
'Til  daylight  by  the  Sheriff's  side. 

"Next  day  she  leaves,  an'  blamed  if  we 
Did  not  the  worst  kind  hate  to  see 
Her  go,  an',  well,  it  makes  me  sort  o'  sigh, 
Fer  she  jes'  kissed  us  all  goodby; 
Ne'r  missed  a  one,  'cept  Billy  Bawn, 
Who  says,  "I  takes  mine  lookin'  on." 

"Now  this  here  yarn  o'  woman's  ways, 

I  never  sabes  in  my  days; 

When  Ben  was  livin'  she  would  laff 

An'  think  it  fun  to  ever  gaff 

His  heart,  but  when  he  ups  an'  dies 

She  goes  cl'ar  wild  an'  cries — an'  cries," 


[139] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  MAN  YOU  COULDN'T  GET 

You  can  cry  and  you  can  try, 
To  the  very  day  you  die, 
Turnin'  up  a  haughty  nose — 
Sort  o'  scornful,  I  suppose, 
But  you're  still  a-dreamin'  yet 
Of  the  man  you  couldn't  get. 

Most  as  likely  some  day  you 
Will  get  married — hope  you  do — 
An'  your  proud  neck  bend  to  rub 
Little  dresses  in  a  tub; 
But  somehow  I  place  this  bet: 
Him  you  never  will  ferget. 

Course  you  knows  time's  comin'  that 
You'll  be  homely,  old  an'  fat; 
Then  your  man  will  wonder  why 
Once  a  great  while  that  you  sigh ; 
Well  you  knows  what  makes  you  fret, 
Even  then  you  can't  ferget. 

Husband,  yes,  he'll  wonder  why 
That  you  turn  a-drift  a  sigh, 
Tho'  he'll  feel  it  sort  o'  dim, 
That  the  said  sigh  hain't  fer  him — 
It's  fer  one  you  love  some  yet : 
Fer  the  man  you  couldn't  get. 

[140] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


He  don't  care,  fer  'tis  true, 
He  jes'  sort  o'  thinks  o'  you, 
As  a  girl  he  uster  know — 
One  o'  many,  sure,  that's  so. 
But  you're  longin',  sighin'  yet, 
Fer  the  man  you  couldn't  get. 

Can't  ferget  that  night  that  you 
Loved  him  long  an'  sweet  an'  true, 
Can't  ferget  his  voice  an'  style, 
Reckless,  careless  all  the  while, 
Can't  ferget  that  old  dark  day, 
When  he  laffed  and  walked  away. 


[141] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


SARY 

When  Sary  waves  her  hand  to  me, 

An'  smiles  as  sweet  as  honey, 
She  hands  to  me  a  bunch  o'  joy, 

What  has  no  price  in  money. 
Right  pert-like  stands  the  little  trick, 

An*  says:   "So  long,  my  feller," 
An'  well  she  knows  "goodby's"  the  word, 

What  I  jes'  hate  to  tell  her. 

When  Sary  waves  her  hand  to  me, 

Say,  there's  no  use  o?  talkin', 
Away  from  her  to  jump  my  bronk, 

Be  hardest  kind  o'  walkin'. 
'Pears  ev'ry  step  comes  slower  an' 

My  feet  get  so  contrary, 
B'cause  they  knows  it  is  not  right 

To  walk  away  from  Sary. 

When  Sary  waves  her  hand  to  me, 

I  feels  so  triflin'  lonely, 
That  I'd  go  back  but  then  I  knows 

That  maiden  would  jes'  only 
Give  me  the  laff,  an'  then  agin, 

It's  that  much  more  to  suffer, 
Fer  one  goodby  is  tuff  enuff, 

Whilst  two  goodbys  is  tuffer. 

[142] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


A  LOTHARIO  OF  THE  RANGE 

If  Love  won't  come  to  me  today, 

(I  meets  her  at  a  dance), 
I'll  saddle  up  an9  sift  away 
Across  the   range,  Oh,  my  turtle  dove, 
An'    I    ropes    fer    you    that    yearlin'    Love : 

An'  it's  blue  eyes  an'  golden  hair, 
An'  lips  that  makes  me  faint, 

An'  a  lovin'  way  that  makes  me  say : 
"Dog-gone  all  cold  restraint!" 

If  Love  won't  come  to  me  today, 

(I  sees  her  back  in  town), 
Around  this  ranch  I  will  not  stay; 
Fer  I  hears  you  sigh  an'  hears  you  cry: 
"Without  you,  boy,  I  will  surely  die :" 

An'  it's  black  eyes  an'  blacker  hair, 
An'  smiles  to  make  me  glad; 

An*  a  desp'rate  way  that  makes  me  say : 
"I'll  never  make  you  mad." 

If  Love  won't  come  to  me  today, 
(Her  old  paw  keeps  a  dog), 
I'll  saddle  up  my  bronco  gay, 
An'  hit  the  trail,  Oh,  I  know  you're  true, 
An'  I  comes  a-runnin',  sweet,  to  you : 

[143] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


An'  it's  dark  eyes  an'  soft  brown  hair, 
An'  hands  that  cling  to  mine, 

An'  a  dreamy  way  that  majces  me  say : 
"You  certainly  is  fine." 

If  Love  won't  come  to  me  today, 

(I  hates  to  talk  so  plain), 
My  only  stack  I'll  up  an'  play, 
An'  stakes  the  wad  that  I  beats  the  god, 
An'  make  him  feel  like  a  sun-burnt  clod : 

An'  it's  girls,  Oh,  girls,  please  listen, 
Don't  think  I  am  a  fright; 

Fer  it  hain't  no  fun  to  love  jes'  one, 
With  millions  more  in  sight, 


[144] 


On  the  Trail  of  Love 


BOY,  WILL  YOU  CARE? 

Onct,  twilight  time,  we's  out  an'  she 
Jes'  looks  away — away  from  me, 
Into  the  fadin'  sunset  range, 
An'  then  I  sees  her  sweet  face  change, 
An'  that  sad  look  come  driftin'  there, 
An'  then  she  says :   "Boy,  will  you  care, 
When  I  jes'  fade  like  that  there  light 
Is  soft  a-fadin'  into  night?" 

An'  I  jes'  laffs  an'  answers  back, 
"Don't  you  no  borrowed  trubble  pack, 
An'  cross  no  cricks  or  fords,  my  dear, 
When  they  be  miles  away  from  here." 
An'  sort  o'  like  she  was  a  kid, 
Around  her  one  big  arm  I  slid, 
An'  gathers  her  up  close  to  me, 
An'  speakin'  out  some  suddenly: 
"Jes'  let  the  blamed  old  sunset  fade, 
The  dawn's  a-comin',  who's  afraid? 
Fer  time  or  age  or  anything, 
That  the  dark  future  has  to  spring, 
Sees  me  the  same  an'  that  is  true, 
Fer,  by  the  way,  I  jes'  love  you." 


[145] 


WHERE  THE  CHINOOK 
BLOWS 


The  west  wind  wooed  the  blushing  rose, 

And  blew  her  kisses  sweet  with  musk 
From  dawn  of  day  until  the  stars 

Shone  tenderly  thro'  purple  dusk. 
The  west  wind  wooed  the  blushing  rose, 

And  sang  to  her  a  heart-song  true, 
And  placed  upon  her  head  a  crown 

Of  sunshine1  s  gold  begemmed  with  dew. 
The  west  wind  wed  the  bhishing  rose, 

Embowered  there  in  leafy  nook. 
And  heaven  blessed  their  first-born  fair, 

The  fragrant  and  the  warm  Chinook. 


[149] 


WHERE  THE  CHINOOK 
BLOWS 


GREEN  PRAIRIES 

Green  prairies,  green  prairies  all  drenched  in 

the  rain, 
Or   a-gleam   in  the   dance   of   the   sunbeams 

again; 
In  the  sheen  and  the  shine  of  the  dawn  and 

the  light, 
Or  the  murk  and  the  gloom  of  the  shadows  of 

night ; 
In  hearts  that  have  known  thee  thy  memories 

reign, 
And  thy  voices,  clear  calling,  call  never  in  vain. 


[151] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  RANCH  HOUSE 

Upon  the  logs  a  wolf  hide  hangs, 
A  saddle  lies  beside  the  door, 

And  just  within  its  shadow  there 
A  baby  creeps  upon  the  floor. 


[152] 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


THE  SPRING  ROUNDUP 

A  world  of  dust  peopled    by  strange  shapes 

That  whirl  and  plunge  and  rear, 
A  carnival  of  sound,  deep,  wild  and  hoarse, 

That  speaks  maternal  fear. 
Stern  work  for  man  and  trusty  horse, 

Swing  out,  swing  in  and  pass ! 
The  day  is  hot  and  long,  but  yet 

Tonight,  upon  the  grass, 
The  horse  will  ease  his  fevered  sides 

And  man  will  count  it  blest 
To  smoke  and  talk  and  lastly  know 

The  pleasant  range  of  rest, 


[153] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  CAMP'S  ASLEEP 

The  camp's  asleep  and  thro'  the  gloom, 
The  white-topped  wagons  spectral  loom; 
And  weird  the  lonesome  coyotes  call, 
And  quiet  stars  stand  watch  o'er  all. 
The  fire's  down,  the  shadows  creep, 
Their  work  is  done,  the  camp's  asleep. 


[154] 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


TWILIGHT  ON  THE  RANGE 

To  soft  subdue  the  wide  wastes  to  its  thrall, 
Palpatant,  a  purple  haze  enchanteth  all; 
Silence,  save  the  curlew's  sad,  insistent  call, 
Or  suddenly  and  sweet  the  mellow  boom 
Of  night   hawks   circling  thro'   the   deepening 
gloom. 


[155] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  CROCUS 

Shadow-shapes  of  skulking  wolves  along  the 
bluffs, 

They  prey  upon  some  weakling  of  the  herd. 
Snow-mottled  all  the  prairie  lies, 

The  sky  an  ashen  gray,  the  sunlight  blurred. 
Gone,  gone   are  all  the  hopes  that  bloomed 

In  summers  past  'neath  skies  of  blue. 
Lo,  see !  a  crocus  in  a  bed  of  snow, 

Ah,  hope  of  summer  blooms  anew. 


[156] 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


TIGER  LILIES 

Warrior  flowers,  with  tossing  plumes  of  red, 
In    stately    groups    with    flaunting    banners 

spread; 

A  triumphant  host  among  the  humble  grass, 
Guarding  every  upland  park  and  pass. 


[157] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


SAGE  BRUSH 

A  dusty  trail,  a  burning  sky, 

And  splotch  of  leprous  alkali; 

Gray,  somber  wastes  that  touch  the  rim 

Of  Shadow  Land,  vast,  vague  and  dim. 


[158] 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


THE  BAD  LANDS 

Bluffs  of  ochre  and  brown  and  red, 

In  varied  glory  flare, 
For  here  is  the  land  of  mystery, 

Where  God  plays  solitaire. 

A  gray  plain  and  a  soft  mirage, 
In  the  blue  haze  over  there, 

For  here  is  the  land  of  lonesomeness, 
Where  God  plays  solitaire. 

A  mudded  butte  and  shapes  that  come 

And  at  the  sunset  stare, 
For  here  is  the  land  of  forgotten  pasts, 

Where  God  plays  solitaire. 

A  silence  that  dwarfs  the  soul  of  man, 
Oh,  the  silence  everywhere! 

For  here  is  the  land  of  things  unsolved, 
Where  God  plays  solitaire. 


[159] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  RATTLESNAKE 

O'er  sun-baked  plains  he  winds  his  way, 
Slow  squirms  his  glittering  length  along, 
And  from  the  sage  brush  sanded  gray, 
Doth  come  his  fearful  warning  song. 
Watch,  watch  for  him,  his  sting  is  death, 
And  in  those  angry,  flaming  eyes 
Doth  lurk  the  awful  hate  of  years. 
Sunning  where  the  barren  bluffs  arise, 
He  lies  in  lazy  coil.     The  scaly  lid 
Doth  curtain  o'er  those  vengeful  eyes; 
Doth  hold  their  murderous  fire  hid — 
When  lo,  a  step  is  heard,  the  horrid  head 
Is  swiftly  reared  and  keen  he  sounds 
His  challenge  full  of  deathless  hate. 


[160] 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


THE  BUTTES 

Half-hid  in  shadow,  vague  and  'drear, 
They  loom  like  sculptured  shapes  of  fear : 
Monuments  and  ghastly  domes, 

And  toppling  turrets  tall, 
That  rear  misshapen  forms  above 

Yon  monstrous  castle  wall — 
Yon  castle  wall  where  dwarfish  pine, 

In  ragged  fringes  set, 
To  scar  the  sick  moon's  pallid  face, 

With  grotesque  silhouette, 


[161] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


PRAIRIE  WOLVES 

Up  where  the  white  bluffs  fringe  the  plain, 
When  heaven's  lights  are  on  the  wane, 
They  sing  their  songs  as  demons  might 
Shriek  wild  a  chorus  to  the  night. 
Gaunt,  gray  brutes  with  dripping  fangs, 
And  eyes  aflame  with  hunger-pangs, 
With  lips  curled  back  in  snarls  of  hate, 
They  wail  a  curse  against  their  fate. 


[1621 


Where  the  Chinook  Blows 


THE  WINDS  OF  THE  WEST 

Oh,  the  west  winds,  the  wild  winds,  glad  va- 
grants and  free, 

They  sing  of  the  lure  of  the  long  trail  to  me ; 

They  sing  of  a  bluff,  a  lone  wolf  on  the  crest, 

And  the  tang  of  the  sage  from  the  wastes  to 
the  west. 

Oh,  the  west  winds,   the   wild  winds,   a  mad 

symphony 
That  shouts  of  the  smoke  of  the  line  camps  to 

me; 

And  out  of  my  soul  bursts  a  passionate  cry, 
"Oh,  I  come,  I  come  home,  for  thy  bondman 

am  I." 


[163] 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF 
YESTERDAY 


On  the  trail  of  yesterday. 
Retrospective  fancies  play; 
In  the  camp  fire  burning  low, 
Strange,  wild  pictures  come  and  go. 


[167] 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF 
YESTERDAY 


ONJINJINTKA 

(An  Indian  Legend) 

Camped  in  the  foot  hills,  their  fires  bright 
With  spears  of  flame  flung  back  the  night, 
And  there  we  smoked,  the  chief  and  I, 
And  hearkened  to  the  soft  wind  sigh, 
The  distant  music  of  the  mountain  stream, 
And  all  the  voices  that  e'er  seem, 
Half-hushed  to  whispers  in  the  trees, 
To  speak  of  night's  vast  mysteries. 
The  old  Sioux  spoke  and  his  eyes  grew  dim, 
As  Mem'ry  kissed  her  hand  to  him, 
And  lured  him  on  to  tell  the  tale, 
Of  why  the  lonesome  pine  trees  wail, 
Thro'  long,  long  nights  of  murk  and  dread, 
Like  hopeless  spirits  of  the  dead. 

Onjinjintka,  the  Rose,  lovelier  than  the  flower, 
She  came  and  blossomed  in  our  hearts; 
We  loved  her  as  a  child  of  the  sunlight, 
Smiles  of  the  dawn  rested  in  her  eyes, 
The  spirit  of  the  Good  Spirit  abided  with  her 

spirit, 

Thus  we  loved  Onjinjintka,  the  Rose. 
[169] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


Many  were  the  warriors  who  loved  her, 
Many  were  the  gifts  laid  at  her  father's  feet; 
But  to  the  warriors  her  father  spoke : 
"She   is    my  best   beloved,   the   flower  of   my 

heart, 

Her  way  is  my  way." 
Calm  as  the  mountain  lake  was  the  heart  of 

the  Rose— 
The  heart  of  Onjinjintka,  the  Rose. 

From  the  land  of  the  rising  sun  a  white  man 

came, 

Yellow  as  gold  was  his  hair  and  he  laughed 
After  the  manner  of  his  tribe — 
Face  to  face  met  they — face  to  face, 
Onjinjintka,  the  Rose  and  he  of  the  yellow  hair, 
The  maid  seeing  no  evil  in  his  smile. 

For  he  would  pluck  the  wild  rose  and  when  its 

fragrance  died, 

Fling  it  down  in  the  dust  of  forgetfulness. 
Onjinjintka  basked  in  his  smile, 
It  was  as  the  south  wind  to  her  soul. 
The  white  man  abided  with  us  to  the  Spirit 

Hills. 
Happy  then  was  Onjinjintka,  the  Rose. 

Here  at  the  foot  of  the  Spirit  Hills  we  made 

our  camp, 
Going  no  farther,  being  fearful  of  the  anger  of 

the  gods, 

[170] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 

Broken  then  was  the  heart  of  Onjinjintka — 
Withered  as  the  leaf  in  autumn  was  the  spirit 

of  Onjinjintka,  the  Rose. 
At  the  dawn  she  awoke  and  found  him  not, 
Found  not  her  white  lover  by  her  side, 
In  the  dark  night  he  had  departed. 

His  trail  led  to  a  great  trail — 

A  great  trail  made  by  many  wagons; 

For  he  had  found  his  kind. 

The  white  man  had  found  his  people. 

For  him  Onjinjintka  wailed  as  for  the  dead, 

Broken  was  the  heart  of  Onjinjintka,  the  Rose. 

We  heard  her  wailing  in  the  darkness, 
Wailing  for  her  love  in  the  darkness. 
She  wandered  afar  into  the  Spirit  Hills. 
Her  father  called  her  and  she  answered  not, 
We  waited  and  she  returned  not, 
Empty  were  our  hearts  without   Onjinjintka, 
the  Rose. 

Hearken,  the  wind  comes  through  the  pines, 
It  is  the  voice  of  her — 

It  is  the  voice  of  her  wailing  in  the  darkness, 
Wailing  for  him  who  loved  her  not. 
We  shiver  as  we  listen  to  her  wailing, 
Empty  are  our  hearts  without  Onjinjintka,  the 
Rose. 


[171] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  GUN  FIGHT 

Stern  his  eye  and  ever  watchful, 

Stranger  to  deceit  or  lie, 
And  his  creed  thus  plain  and  simple : 

For  the  right  'tis  good  to  die. 
Woman's  honor,  clean  and  spotless, 

All  unsoiled  its  garments  white, 
Rested  safe  beneath  his  banner, 

Tender,  loyal,  western  knight. 

Dark  his  foe  and  ever  taunting, 

Mocking  lips  and  evil  eyes, 
With  a  heart  as  foul  as  Hades, 

With  a  hate  that  never  dies. 
Words  of  cunning,  cruel  malice — 

Lo,  at  last  he  speaks  a  name, 
That  in  all  the  border  country, 

Stands  for  woman's  scarlet  shame. 

Swift  the  flash  of  true  hand  backward, 

Then  a  bitter  voice  of  doom ; 
And  a  soul  all  hope-forsaken, 

Fleeing  thro'  the  outer  gloom. 
Then  the  silence  and  the  struggle 

Of  the  shape  upon  the  sod, 
And  a  choking,  husky  whisper 

Of  the  awful  name  of  God. 

[172] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 

That  you  loved  her,  be  it  spoken, 

Loved  her  long  and  loved  her  true, 
And  as  faith  in  the  eternal, 

So  she  loved  and  trusted  you. 
Know  the  truth,  Oh,  knightly  brother, 

In  the  lean  land  of  the  sage, 
Justified,  the  word  is  written, 

On  a  white  and  sacred  page. 


[173] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


LOVE  AND  DEATH 
(A  Cowboy's  Thoughts) 

I'm  camping  here  alone  tonight, 

And  thoughts  like  ghosts  all  sad  and  pale, 
Rise  up  to  haunt  my  heart  and  drift 

Along  the  twisting  mem'ry  trail. 
Her  sweet,  sad  smile,  her  tender  voice, 

The  softness  of  her  cheek  and  hand, 
But  she  is  gone,  Oh,  tell  me  where! 

What  trail  leads  out  into  that  land? 

She  used  to  say  that  every  star, 

Was  some  dear  soul  whose  work  was  done, 
And  in  that  peaceful  range  above, 

God  night-herd  stands  on  every  one. 
My  soul  just  cries  but  yet  those  stars, 

No  look  of  love  or  longing  wear — 
Oh,  tell  me,  is  there  answer  to 

That  never-ending  question,  "Where?" 

And  still  the  stars  look  coldly  down, 

As  cold  and'solemn  as  can  be; 
They  never  smile  and  her  kind  eyes, 

Forever  held  a  smile  for  me. 
Up  in  the  brakes  a  lone  wolf  howls, 

In  long-drawn  quavers  mournfully; 
And  then  the  silence  and  the  stars, 

Make  mock  of  wolf  and  mock  of  me. 

[174] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 


THE  WESTERN  TRAIL 
(A  Sioux  Version) 

In  the  beginning  the  Great   Spirit  gave  the 

prairie  rare  gifts, 
The  mirage,  the  warm  rains  of  springtime,  the 

grasses  and  the  flowers, 
The  buffalo,  the  village  by  the  river  and  the 

children  basking  in  the  sun. 
Happy  were  we  then,  oh,  my  people! 
But  from  the  East  a  white  warrior  came  and 

with    a    mighty    arrow    wounded    the 

prairie; 
And    the    grasses  and    the   flowers  withered 

and  the  herds  and  the  villages  melted 

away — 
Melted,  oh,  my    people!   as  the  snow  melts 

before  the  Chinook. 
In  time    the  wound    healed,   but  a  scar  was 

left — a    long,    white    scar    across    the 

prairie's  breast, 


[175] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


TO  A  BUFFALO  SKULL 

On  the  sable  wall  doth  thy  great  skull  gleam, 

A  regal  ornament; 

Speak    thou,    thro'    the    gloom    of   this    dusky 
room, 

Once  lord  of  a  continent. 

Yea,  once  I  was  lord  of  a  countless  host, 

But  gone  is  my  kingly  sway, 
And  never  again  will  I  head  the  herd, 

In  the  spring  when  the  young  calves  play. 
All  bleached  with  the  merciless  sun  and  rain 

Of  many  and  many  a  day, 
I'm  all  that  is  left  to  tell  the  sad  tale 

How  the  black  lines  passed  this  way. 


[176] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 


AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  A  BORDER  CAVA- 
LIER 

No  more  ring  the  shouts  and  the  boisterous 

laughter, 

That  told  of  the  joy  of  the  bold  cavalier; 
Who   lived   out   his   time,   caring   naught   for 

Hereafter, 
Counting  death  as  a  favor  and  not  as  a  fear. 

Gone,  gone  are  the  days  and  the  nights  of  dis- 
order, 
When  none  but  the  coward  from  glory  was 

barred, 
Now  the  grass  decks  thy  grave,  wild  son  of  the 

border, 

And  vandals  thy  headstone  have  mockingly 
marred. 


[177] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  DOOM  OF  THE  WEAK 

Gaunt  mother,  the  spring  is  not  yet  come, 
When  grasses  wave  'neath  wild  plum  bloom ; 

When  Nature  smiles  upon  the  range, 
Forgetful  of  the  days  of  doom. 

And    that   pathetic,    awkward    calf, 
Of  all  that  lives  to  you  most  dear, 

Cannot  long  lean  upon  your  strength, 
Or  feel  your  presence  warm  and  near. 

The  gray  wolf's  famished  and  his  jaws 
Hang  slavering  with  mad  desire, 

Yet  still  your  bold  and  dauntless  front, 
His  caution  and  his  fear  inspire. 

No  fear  of  self,  you  rise  supreme 
To  all  that's  true,  to  all  that's  good 

In  Nature's  realm,  since  none  surpass 
The  sacrifice  of  motherhood. 

You  lurch,  and  then  the  wolf's  quick  leap, 
The  blood's  red  gush  upon  the  snow — 

And  one  last  effort  to  protect 

The  offspring  that  you  cherished  so. 

In  vain  you  strive  to  reach,  protect, 
Defender  bold  and  mother  meek; 

Yours  is  the  doom  all  merciless — 
The  age-old  doom  of  all  the  weak. 

[178] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 


THE  NIGHT  STAMPEDE 

The    thunder    rolled   like    a    thousand   drums, 

And  the  sky  was  torn  in  twain 
With  a  livid  wound,  and  then  the  hiss 

Of  the  madly  lashing  rain. 

The  herd  swept  on  down  the  trail  of  doom, 

As  a  flare  of  yellow  light 
For  a  heart-beat  shone  on  him  who  rode 

By  the  side  of  Death  that  night. 

Oh,   the  clashing  horns  and  grinding  hooves, 
'  And  the  flick  of  pistol  flame, 
And  he  who  headed  that  wild  stampede, 
Lone  hero  without  a  name ! 

Oh,  the  awful  rush  of  plunging  shapes, 

When  the  last,  last  stumble  came, 
And  the  crash  to  earth  of  horse  and  man — 

Death  won,  aye,  he  won  the  game, 


[179] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


THE  CIRCLE 

Yesterday  a  cave-man  spoke, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old; 
Thus  wail  the  voices  in  the  smoke, 

This  land  is  old. 

Yesterday  a  red  man  cried, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old; 
I  pass  the  haunts  where  cave-men  died, 

This  land  is  old. 

Yesterday  a  white  man  said, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old; 

Behold  this  flinty  arrow-head, 
This  land  is  old. 

Yesterday  a  good  man  sighed, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old; 

My  city's  pride  a  grave  doth  hide, 
This  land  is  old. 

Yesterday  a  builder  sang, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old; 
From  narrow  trails  my  wide  streets  sprang, 

This  land  is  old. 

Yesterday  a  savage  cried, 

This  land  is  old,  this  land  is  old ; 
What  paths  are  these,  grass-dimmed  and  wide? 

This  land  is  old. 

[180] 


On  the  Trail  of  Yesterday 


IN  PASSING 

You  waved  a  slim  brown  hand  to  me 
With  a  grace  that  proved  devotion 

To  the  subtile  art,  Oh,  sailor  bold, 
Across  a  grassy  ocean. 

You  drifted  by  with  easy  lope, 
Your  body  weaved  with  the  motion 

Of  your  bronco-ship,  staunch  bark  to  ride 
Across  a  grassy  ocean. 


[181] 


Cowboy  Lyrics 


DEAR   LITTLE  FIRE 

Dear   little  fire  by  the  upland  trail, 

Well  fed  with  twigs  of  oak, 
By  you  I'll  dream  and  soft  caress 

Your  tiny  hands  of  smoke. 

Dear   little  friend  of  the  lonely  hours, 

I'll  give  you  after-while, 
A  dainty  lunch  of  crumpled  leaves 

And  grass  to  make  you  smile. 

Oh,  then  you'll  romp  and  chatter  and  play, 
And  laugh  with  quaint  delight. 

And  throw  warm  kisses  at  the  sad 
And  solemn-looking 'night, 


[182] 


